#i got to go look at hell and my favorite author ever was chosen to guide me bc of how cool i am

[scalemodelarbysreplica]

Dante Alighieri when figuring out how he wanted to include his mentor, who shaped his ability to write, in his self-insert fanfiction:

[salem-witch-slut]

This Is What I Know Of Life

Kara Danvers X Masc! FemReader

SYNOPSIS: After saving Kara from a horrible date in a bar, you can't keep the blonde out of your mind no matter how hard you try. You just had to know her.

WORD COUNT: 9.4K

WARNINGS: Canon typical violence, lesbian reader, reader described as muscular with many tattoos, mentions of blood and medical procedures (stitches, needles, etc.), shameless flirting

Author's Note: So this was on my old blog and I just had to bring it back. It's exactly like it was before, so if you missed it, here it is! I will be adding more of my old fics back to this account, but let's start with my favorite!

DIVIDERS MADE BY @cafekitsune

This is what I know of life: Love fiercely, even recklessly; Laugh loudly, even raucously; Risk everything, at least once; Live openly, without abandon; Build trust, be honest;

Kara had no clue what she was thinking when she considered this.

Internet dating? It reminded her painfully of when she first came out as Supergirl. That was the worst date she had ever been on… until tonight. The blonde Kryptonian had chosen a black skirt this time, and an off-shoulder pastel blue blouse to try and accentuate the definition in her collarbones and shoulders, which Alex had suggested she show off more often.

Almost as soon as she met the man at the bar, she was uncomfortable. But it seemed that no matter what she had been able to say, he wasn’t backing down, moving away, or taking no for an answer. The bar was incredibly crowded and if she ended up using her powers on him, she would be seen and that would be a very, very difficult thing to talk her way out of.

Kara couldn’t look at her phone, or text Alex 911 to get the hell out of there. Kara felt stuck, and she was not a fan of this feeling. This guy was the worst, and he was getting far more intoxicated than she was comfortable with.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Kara asked, watching her date down another shot and watching him sway slightly against the bar counter.

The man chortled, which made her extra-terrestrial skin crawl. “Don’t you worry ‘bout me, baby.”

She wanted to throw up… And then, things got ten times worse.

Kara may have had superhuman abilities, and could fly at the speed of sound… But nothing could have prepared her for the feeling of the man’s grimy hand against her rear. The blonde tensed so hard that she almost lit the countertop on fire with her laser eyes.

Kara was about to snap. Exposure be damned, she was going to break this man’s fingers until he could never even hold a glass again. Her blood was boiling and she turned to look up at him and destroy him, but paused at seeing a hand tapping her “date” on the shoulder.

Kara watched him turn around and before he could even ask “What do you want?” A fist went directly across his face. Kara gaped, her eyes widening in shock as she saw someone knock the drunk flat on his ass. He stumbled from the bar counter and onto the ground as the someone stood over his body, shoulders squaring aggressively and brows pulled down.

What does she do about this?!

“Keep your filthy fucking hands off of her,” You snarled, grabbing at his collar and kneeling down low enough to seethe in his face. For a second, Kara was worried about the guy laying on his back, but then her eyes ended up drifting to the hand curled into his shirt… you were wearing rings on almost every single finger, and you had a tattoo of a moth on top of your hand.

You may have had more tattoos but your arms were hidden behind the button down black shirt that was rolled up to the middle of your forearms… Forearms that were massive and veined, clearly dripping with power. That hit must have hurt like hell.

Kara found herself blushing. Whether it was from embarrassment, or flattery, she didn’t know.

The man on the ground groaned, looking up at you with a dizzy expression and immediately started smirking, blood on his teeth. “Ain’t scared of you, dyke.”

The entirety of the bar let out a gasp as you hit the man again. There was no doubt his nose was broken, and Kara made a face of terror as you stood up, seeing your knuckles bruising and covered in the man’s blood. Most were his, but the first punch had left a cut on your finger from the guy’s teeth.

“Are you—” Kara watched you stand up straight, having to look up to meet your gaze. She pushed her glasses up on her nose and her brows pulled down in distress. “Who are you? Are you out of your mind?”

You reached out for a napkin on the bar and wiped the blood off your knuckles and cleaned the rings on your fingers. You didn’t respond to her initial questions, but instead, asked one of your own. She blushed all over again. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”

Kara gaped, giving a remarkable impression of a fish out of water. “I-I’m fine! I could have handled him; I can take care of myself!” The super went on the defensive immediately. She wasn’t about to let you put her into the persona of a weak, innocent girl that needed protecting. She had lived her entire life with other people taking care of her and she didn’t need random women at the bar taking pity on her and fighting her battles for her.

All you did was smile, which made her stomach twist uncomfortably. You looked so nice when you smiled like that. “I didn’t say you couldn’t.”

Kara watched as the bouncers of the bar were dragging the man out of the building, not even looking at you or acting against your demonstration of violence. “Then why did you just—”

“I’m not a fan of assholes who take advantage of pretty girls in crowded spaces where they can’t say no,” You cleared up immediately. “He wasn’t backing down and you had been uncomfortable since you got your first drink… I wanted to knock his ass out for a while.”

Kara tried to focus on the entirety of your words… not that you just called her pretty. “Were you watching us?”

You smirked, not meeting her eyes before you reached down to your hip and tapped the pistol holstered on your side. Kara suddenly felt uncomfortable. Why did you have a gun? Why were you allowed to carry a weapon in a club? Who were you?

“It’s my job to watch everyone that comes in, sweetheart.”

A shout of your name across the bar had you looking up and you saw the bartender approaching you with a first-aid kit. “Why didn’t you just restrain him and call the cops?”

You smirked, grabbing an alcohol wipe and rubbing it across the cut on your knuckle. “Needed a harder lesson, Rick… Did Tommy call the police?”

“Yeah, pulling up in five minutes. They’ll want a statement from you and her, you know,” Rick pointed at Kara who immediately went pale in the face.

“I’ll handle it. Thanks buddy,” You sighed, sitting down on the bar stool and wiping off your own blood and the blood of the asshole’s that’s currently bleeding all over his cheap blazer. Kara was beginning to understand what your role here was and she sat down on the bar stool next to yours. The slice on your knuckle just kept bleeding and you tore open a gauze patch with your teeth.

“Here,” Kara immediately grabbed your hand, much to your surprise. Almost immediately, her cheeks were tinting pink as she placed the gauze over the cut and began to wrap it up. Your hands were so warm that it was making her shiver. “Are you alright?”

“You don’t need to worry about me, sweetheart,” You smiled, and Kara rolled her eyes.

“My name is Kara, not sweetheart,” She corrected as she released your hand, making you chuckle and lean against the bar’s counter with a smile that she couldn’t not respond to with her own smile. You called the bartender back over and looked at Kara one more time before saying what to get her.

“Get miss Kara here anything she wants to drink, and close out her tab,” You gently reached out and Kara almost flinched away before you slid your uninjured hand through the blonde hair framing her face and pushed it over her bare shoulder. She shivered at your touch. “Anything you want, its on the house. Just don’t get too drunk, alright?”

Before Kara could protest, you stood up from your seat and walked back into the crowd. Kara watched you walk away, biting her lip and then looking back at the bartender who was simply waiting for whatever she wanted. Kara couldn’t keep her thoughts away as her brain teased “Are you sure that the thing you want didn’t just walk away?”

It was 3 AM by the time Kara was leaving the building. Everyone else had gone and she was one of the last patrons to exit. What made her linger for so long when she had no reason to stick around? Well, she was waiting for you…

The police had already come and taken your statement, but they never talked to her. When you said that you’d take care of it, you must have taken care of everything because her “date” had been arrested and you actually waved when they drove off with him in the car.

She wanted to talk to you again, but you were busy and she didn’t want to distract you… Three other people had been escorted out of the building that night by you, but none of them had gotten hit like her date had. You were polite with everyone else, even with them being belligerent… It didn’t make sense to Kara. She needed to know what was happening in that head of yours.

You were taking the walkie off your hip and passing it to the other bouncer as you removed the pistol from your hip and ejected the magazine. Kara watched you check to see if it was still loaded before you clicked on the safety and handed the gun and holster over to your coworker.

When you turned away, you came to a stop at seeing Kara standing there at the door, looking at you with a nervous expression on her face.

“Hey,” You approached her, rubbing the back of your neck and smiling. “Didn’t know you were still here. Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Kara reassured you, a smile growing on her face and showing off her pretty white teeth. “I was just uhm… Do you want to take a walk with me? I live about 8 blocks away, and you can just…”

“Walk you home?” You smiled and held out your hand for her to go forward first. “Lead the way, miss Kara.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silent walk, enjoying the warm night air of National City. Kara held her jacket in front of her while keeping her steps slow to have them sync with yours. She took a nervous glance over at you and saw that you were smiling, both hands tucked into the pockets of your trousers that just looked so incredible on you.

“Why did you hit him?” The question seemed to catch you off-guard. When you looked up, Kara clarified, adjusting her glasses. “I saw you throw others out… You didn’t hit those guys. Why’d you hit that guy?”

 You took a long moment to consider why exactly you hit him. Kara was getting worried, like you didn’t really know what made you snap and attack a patron in such an unprovoked way. The way your fingers rubbed at the skin on your cheek and how your stride seemed to slow to almost a stop. Kara frowned, waiting patiently for your answer.

“He didn’t deserve to be near you,” You stated coldly. “Saw him four nights in a row with four other girls… Each time, he wouldn’t keep his hands to himself. I guess seeing him do it to you really pissed me off.”

“But you don’t even know me,” Kara said.

You sighed. “I don’t. But pretty girls like you have always been one of my weaknesses. I guess I got a bit protective—I don’t know,” The confession felt like vinegar on your tongue and Kara came to a full stop in her walk as she stared up at your face. “I’m sorry, miss Kara. I was in the wrong. I took matters into my own hands instead of doing the right thing.”

The silence was no longer comfortable around you two. It was tense and Kara felt almost uncomfortable… Not because she was upset with you or scared of you. But because she seemed to almost like how you defended and fought for her at the bar. She had friends that would defend her, and her sister would always be by her side… But no one had displayed this level of protectiveness over her before.

You looked down at her and cautiously stepped forward. When Kara didn’t step back, you decided that she wasn’t going to pull away and you reached down, tracing your fingertips across her forehead and brushing her blonde hair away from her face. Kara blushed, watching as you tucked the blonde locks behind her ear around her glasses.

Kara reached up and held your hand against her face, leaning into your palm and basking in the cool of your soft touch. You stroked your thumb across her cheekbone and smiled, pulling your hand back and leaving the blonde to pout a little at the lack of contact.

“We should get you home, sweetheart. It’s getting late.”

Why did the idea of leaving you make her so sad?

The chaos that flooded the top floor of CatCo was very familiar to Kara. Only this time it had nothing to do with Supergirl, and everything to do with the bar last night. She saw on the dozens of TV screens her date being hauled out of the building covered in his own blood.

“Kara, wasn’t that…” The sound of Winn’s voice didn’t surprise her, but she still stepped to the side trying to avoid his questions. “That was the guy you—”

“The guy I went out with, yes, I’m aware,” Kara sighed, pushing her glasses on her nose and trying to relax her emotions. She chose to listen to the broadcast, but normally she’d tune it out to ignore the words that the news said.

“-Richard Hendrics was apprehended outside of a nightclub just off of 45th Street, guised under a fake name ‘Ivan Neward.’ Authorities have Hendrics in custody after the club’s security guard took down the perpetrator; we have her words from the scene last night.”

Kara felt her face heat up when the screen changed, and your interview pulled up.

“I’ve seen this guy five times this week. He shows up, brings another girl, and gets drunk. We do what we can to protect everybody that walks through those doors, but things are chaos during these nights. We need everybody to be vigilant, and if you see someone being uncomfortable and they look as if they are in danger, you have to speak up. Protect each other.”

Your voice carried throughout all of the office room and Kara felt her heart pound inside of her chest. You cared so much for others, and it was so sweet to see your concern for everybody—for her.

“Was there a woman here tonight that you protected? Where is she now?”

The camera attempted to pan over to the club and try to find Kara inside before you grabbed the camera and yanked it away. “She is not part of this interview. That is all I will say on this, no more questions!”

Chaos erupted as you began walking away. Kara bit her lip, watching you walk away. You looked so good going back inside of the building and away from the scene outside. Winn looked over and saw just how bad Kara was blushing at seeing you on the screens and bit down on her bottom lip… She used to look at James like that. What was she thinking?

“You got that weird little smitten face,” Winn said, nudging Kara with his hip. “Who is she?”

“Who?” Kara looked up. “Oh! Uhm, sh-she’s just a… some girl from the bar. She kind of p-protected me from that guy and uhm… It-it’s a long story.”

Kara just brushed it off, trying to ignore the feeling of shivers going over her spine as the interview freeze framed on you looking like you were about to knock the reporter’s lights out. Evidence of blood on your fist was a dead giveaway that you were the one that beat up Hendrics.

“Was she the one that—”

“Kicked his butt? Yeah.”

Kara immediately turned away from the screens and sat down at her desk for a grand total of five seconds before she heard Cat calling her name… or, not exactly her name.

“KYRA!” The Kryptonian huffed before she stood from her chair and aggressively walked into Cat’s office.

“Ms. Grant?”

“You see this woman?” Cat stood in front of the TV screens. Your image was plastered on every single one of them. Kara felt her stomach twist. “She is… inspiring. She is an everyday hero and inspired thousands of women to speak up and defend each other. The internet is exploding with confessions of dates that have gone wrong, and countless sex offenders have been arrested in all but twelve hours.”

Kara was speechless, but in Cat’s presence, that happens very often. The woman was a legend, and she was calling you inspiring. “I want that woman.”

“You—you want her?”

Cat turned around slowly, staring at Kara like she was an idiot. “I need an exclusive with that woman. She’s the height of the media; the face on every news station. As violent as she may be, she is someone that deserves to be heard.”

“Oh, you want to interview her—” Kara took a deeper breath, like she couldn’t believe that the idea of Cat Grant wanting you carnally even crossed her mind.

“Kyra, I could not have been clearer. My days of experimentation are over after drinking all night with Madonna,” Kara blinked a few times, trying to comprehend what she just kind of haphazardly admitted. Cat Grant had experimented with women—no, she experimented with Madonna! What the actual—

“Get me that woman. I want an interview today! Go, now!”

Kara nearly stumbled out of the room to escape from Cat’s hungry gaze. It made her uncomfortable for a whole new reason; one she didn’t truthfully like. There was one thing she had on her focus now, and she wasn’t sure that she was up to the task.

Winn ran up next to Kara’s desk as she went into her phone and scrolled through the contacts inside of it like her life depended on it. “What did she say? What are you doing?”

“Cat wants an interview,” Kara clicked on one of her contacts and stood up, slowly stepping in a circle and waiting.

“Interview with…”

“Hi! Hello, hi, I don’t know if you remember me. We met last night at the club? Kara Danvers?”

A soft chuckle sounded on the other end and Kara shivered at your voice. “How could I forget? What can I do for you, miss Kara?”

Two hours went by. Two full hours of Kara sitting at her desk like one wrong move would make the building explode. Every few seconds she would look at the door and wait for you to come out of the elevator, but she couldn’t hear or see you… You were unlike Cat when she was in her elevator. She always talked to herself. You were silent.

But there was one thing she did hear… a very, very fast heartbeat. It was definitely yours. She recognized it from the night before. Oh, you were nervous?

The elevator doors dinged, and you stepped off and rounded the corner. When she saw you, her heart almost exploded, and the sound of crunching could be heard across the room. Kara looked down and saw her computer mouse in pieces.

You were wearing a custom-made suit in Kara’s favorite color. The navy blue accentuated your skin tone flawlessly and you had your hair styled in a way that could make the straightest girls falter in their steps. Silver rings decorated your fingers, and a silver chain was wrapped around your neck in a light choker. You looked… holy Rao, you looked incredible.

“Hey, uhm…” You stopped at one of the desks nearby and looked down. “I’m looking for Kara Danvers?”

The blonde stood from her desk and walked a little too fast over to you, almost tripping to get to you along the way. “Hi! I’m so glad you could make it,” Kara looked you up and down, from your coat down to your dress shoes. “Wow, you look amazing!”

You blushed, a hand running through your hair. “Well, if you think I look good, you look amazing. Lavender is definitely your color, really brings out the blue in your eyes.”

Her entire face went red, and she had to look away for a second just to calm her heart down. For a second, she thought she was going to fly away and had to force her feet to stay on the ground. Why is it when you said things like that, it made her stomach twist?

“Kyra,” The Kryptonian heard Cat’s voice and turned around hard enough to whip you in the face with her ponytail. You made a face of disgust and peeled a piece of blonde hair from your glossed lips. “Do not crowd our star… Cat Grant, it is so nice to meet you.”

The smile that radiated from your face was enough to make Cat blush. “Oh, it’s an honor to meet you, Ms. Grant. I love the work you’ve done with Supergirl! Every time I read one of your stories, I’m starstruck with her all over again.”

Kara gaped for a split second. You liked Supergirl? Wait, your heart rate was rising again and she could hear all of the blood rushing to your face and down… You had a crush on Supergirl!?

“Understandably, all men and women adore her both as a hero and as an attractive woman,” Cat shrugged like it was obvious, stepping towards her office and beckoning for you to follow. You did, without hesitation, waving at Kara and stepping into the office where the interview of a lifetime would be taking place. Not for you, but for Kara specifically.

Almost immediately she sat down and began to listen to you with her super hearing.

“What happened last night? Well… there was a girl. She was being harassed at the bar by her date and I guess I had enough of seeing him take advantage of women to last me a lifetime. I reacted on instinct and protected the girl.”

“Cameras saw blood on your hands,” Cat said, looking down at the recorder on her desk. “Did you hit him?”

You hesitated for a second. Kara almost expected you to deny it.

“I did,” You said. “It was more instinct than thought, Ms. Grant. Fear of that girl being hurt set in, and I went on the offensive. I’ve seen the men who have my job do much worse, and they carry guns just like me.”

“But we are women,” Cat stated. “We are expected to keep calm in the face of terror and hold it together no matter how scary the world is. Speak up, but don’t be a bitch. Defend yourself, but don’t be aggressive. Protect each other, but don’t travel in groups.”

“I’ve never really been like other women,” You said without letting her fully finish. “I’m sure you can see that, Ms. Grant?”

Kara heard Cat hum, and she knew she was looking at you all over like she wanted to eat you alive. “Yes, your aesthetic is very butch, it’s not that hard to see how very non-heterosexual you are.”

A very odd silence carried within the walls of the office before you cleared your throat. “You have something you want to ask me, Ms. Grant.”

“Who was the girl you protected?”

Kara tensed up, and she felt for a second that you might actually tell her that she was there, and she wouldn’t be able to stop you even if she wanted to. But just like last night, you surprised her. “I don’t know her name, Ms. Grant. If you only wanted me to come in here to find out who I was fighting for, I’m going to have to disappoint you.”

Kara let out a breath of relief, dropping her shoulders and relaxing in her seat. She finally stopped listening to the conversation going on in the other room and about seven minutes later, you stepped outside of the interview and removed your phone from your pocket.

“How did it go?” Kara pounced on you. “Did you mention me? Did you say anything about what happened?”

Before Kara knew what was happening, you grabbed her by the arm gently and led her out onto the terrace to avoid prying eyes and unworthy ears. The Kryptonian looked so confused and somewhat shocked by your actions. “Was it that bad?”

“No, it was fine,” You defended. “I kept my promise and didn’t involve you in it.”

“Yeah, uhm… why are you doing that exactly?” Kara adjusted her glasses for almost the thirteenth time that day. You noticed she fussed with them when she was nervous or overwhelmed in some way. “I mean, I have no reason to hide or anything. I can take the heat from the interviews and things, and I mean, it was me that he tried to—”

“I know you can handle yourself, miss Kara. That isn’t what I’m afraid of,” You leaned back on the bar of the balcony and Kara watched the veins in your hands flex. “I’m afraid of the media treating you like some victim, which you wish to not be. The second I tell everybody that it was you he was after, you become the front of sympathy tabloids. I guess… I am trying to protect you, but in a different way.”

Kara took a few moments to truly process what you said and looked deep into your eyes. So deep that she almost x-rayed you. Her fingers flexed against the bar she was holding, and a soft, tense breath escaped her chest.

“Well, I can… take care of myself?” Kara stumbled on her words, and you simply chuckled. Before she could stop you, once again, you were reaching out.

“I see that,” You slowly ran your fingers under a stray lock of blonde hair and slowly tucked it behind her ear, your strong hands lingering against her skin and gently stroking your fingertips across her cheekbone and down to her jaw. Kara felt as if you stole her breath away. “And you… have the prettiest smile I have ever seen.”

“I…” Kara was beginning to shake, almost like she was vibrating in place. You smelled so nice, and you felt so cool against her warm Kryptonian skin. And in five seconds flat, Kara was gone out of your sight with a simple “I have to go!”

All you could do was frown at her running away, looking down at your hand and wishing her warmth was back against your calloused skin. You sighed and leaned back against the rail, rubbing at your face and attempting not to smear your eyeliner. “Sweet moments never last, I guess…”

You headed back inside and noticed that Kara was nowhere to be found. With a deep, disappointed sigh, you began walking towards the elevator with your hands tucked into your trouser pockets. Wherever the blonde went, she was doing a damn good job at avoiding you.

You texted her, making sure that you didn’t overstep in any way.

“I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable, sweetheart. It was never my intention. I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

Kara was staring at her phone screen for almost a full day. Every spare second that she had, she looked at the text you sent her, and her stomach began flipping all over again. She was so engrossed with how she would respond that even Alex was noticing. Her sister saw that she was simply staring at the screen, not typing or responding… she didn’t recognize your name.

“You plan on responding?” Alex teased, pausing the movie in front of them. Kara flinched, almost dropping her phone and looking over at her sister like she was just caught watching an R-Rated love scene. “Who is that?”

“N-No one! She’s nobody— n-not anybody,” Kara attempted to tuck away her cellphone, but Alex was faster, grabbing the device and reading what was on screen. “Wait, Alex, come on!”

“ ‘I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable, sweetheart.’? Who is calling you that?” Alex teased, looking at her sister and smirking as the blonde sighed and dropped her face into Alex’s leg.

“She’s just… the security guard from the bar the other night,” Kara admitted, her face burning the deepest shade of pink. For a second, Kara remembered how good you smelled and how chilled your skin was against her face, and it sent a very vicious shiver down her spine.

Alex noticed. “How’d you get the security guard’s phone number?”

“It’s a long story—”

“Well then start from the beginning?”

And so, Kara did. Kara told Alex everything that happened, not sparing a single detail and not leaving anything up in the air for guessing. She needed Alex to know every single detail and every single emotion that was passing through her in that moment.

“I don’t understand Alex,” Kara sighed, looking down at her hands. “It’s like I can’t think when I’m near her… Like my heart is about to leap from my chest and my hands feel like they’re vibrating! It was like that first time I was Supergirl… when I first saved the plane? That… adrenaline, that feeling of—”

“You like her.”

Kara had to stop her words, staring at her sister like she had just told her the biggest secret in the world. Her entire body started vibrating and Alex put her hands on Kara’s shoulders so the Kryptonian didn’t accidentally fly away. “I like her? What are you—”

“You acted just like this with every single crush you’ve had before, Kara,” Alex reassured. “And it’s okay… You are allowed to like this girl. She sounds great; I’d love to meet her someday.”

The blonde was silent for a good long while before she looked down at her phone and nearly threw it out of the window when she saw that you were calling her. The phone slammed on the coffee table and Kara jumped up, hiding from the device like it was a bomb about to explode.

“OhmyRao! Oh no, she’s calling— Alex, what do I do!?”

Alex rolled her eyes before she answered the phone, much to Kara’s horror. “Hello?”

You were so tense that the sound of another voice didn’t register. No, all you wanted was to talk to Kara and explain yourself so you couldn’t drive her away or scare her off.

“Kara! Hi,” You didn’t expect her to answer. “I uhm… Sorry for calling you so late and unexpected, I just… I don’t know, I need to explain myself? I’m sorry about today, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable this afternoon. I don’t know what came over me.”

Alex smirked as she held her foot out, pressing it into Kara’s chest. Kara could stop her if she wanted to, but a part of her wanted to hear you out on this. Without interrupting you.

When Kara didn’t respond, you feared that she may have hung up on you. But against your better judgment, you started talking again. “I feel like I got the wrong impression from you. So, this may sound absolutely insane but… If you are willing, I would like to have dinner with you? Tomorrow night?”

The silence was almost deafening. Kara looked at Alex and the blonde seemed like she was about to throw up or pass out, maybe even both. Alex grinned from ear to ear and decided to respond for her, much to Kara’s complete and utter torture. “Tomorrow night sounds amazing.”

Kara could hear you sigh a breath of relief, almost like you had been holding it waiting for her answer. “Oh great! Great, uh… I will text you all of the details then? 7:30?”

“7:30, I will be there,” Alex chuckled and looked at Kara who looked like she was about to start screaming. “Goodnight… Sweetheart.”

When Alex hung up, Kara immediately dropped down behind the couch and curled into the fetal position like she wanted to do nothing but vanish into the floor and scream until her breath ran out. The DEO agent started cackling and tossed the phone over to Kara, laughing even harder when the device smacked her in the head.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

You had spent the entire day pacing in your loft, looking at all of the clothes inside your closet and trying so hard to decide on something to wear like your life was on the line. All you wanted to do was impress this girl and show her the best time of her entire life. Kara was unlike anyone you’ve known… and you wanted to know even more.

Deciding to keep things semi-formal, you chose a black long-sleeved turtleneck with a delicate silver chain and gray trench coat. The black boots completed the look, and you tried very hard to not overthink things as you stepped out of your apartment, only to stop and gently pet your orange tabby cat on the head. “Stay put, Tigger. Love you.”

You triple-checked the address on your phone, standing outside of the restaurant that you and Kara picked out together. Asian was your idea and Kara leaped at the opportunity. You tried not to fumble with the box inside your jacket pocket, biting down on your lip and doing your best to calm your beating heart.

It had been years since your last date… work had always got in the way, and you tended to scare off a lot of “candidates”. Your hands were shaking, and you wanted to kick at the wall but then you’d look semi-psychotic.

Of course, your train of thought was completely derailed when you looked up in time to see the most beautiful thing you’ve seen in your entire life…

Kara Danvers, wearing a lavender dress with a white cardigan overtop, the skirt reaching just above her knees, matched with white heels. Her hair was held back with a ribbon braided into her blonde locks, complete with those turtle shell glasses that you thought were so cute on her that it made your heart flutter.

How did you get this lucky to be out with her?

“Hi!” You chirped, stomach tightening as you looked at the most gorgeous female that’s been in your vision. “Uh… wow, you look beautiful, Kara.”

“Thank you,” Kara blushed, looking down at her heels for a brief moment and biting her lip. “And you look… I don’t even have the words for it!”

Now it was your turn to blush, heart fluttering as you gently twist your fingers together. Kara noticed the bandages on your knuckle, but it seemed underplayed by all of the rings on your fingers. This was the first time in a long time that Kara had been on a date, and she actually had hopes for this one. All of the other ones? They were a huge letdown.

Kara was now keeping score in her head. What she didn’t expect was for you to open the door for her. Wow… one point for you!

“Ladies first,” You held out your hand for her and she could tell that you were more charming and polite than any man she has been out with in her entire life.

The hostess led you both to the table in the very quiet restaurant that had live music playing softly nearby. The dining area was dimly lit, and the only light was from a very soft glow of the light above the table. Kara was about to approach her seat when you jumped forward and pulled the chair out for her, smiling and gently pushing it in once she was sat down.

“Well, you certainly know how to make a girl feel special,” Kara chuckled, sitting down and removing the cloth napkin from the plate and laying it over her lap.

You stripped off your jacket and draped it over the back of your chair, sitting down across from her and folding your hands overtop the table in front of her. “I find it hard to believe that you are treated any less when you go on dates.”

Kara chuckled, shrugging her shoulders. “Yeah… the dates I’ve been on? Not exactly anything to write home about.”

You make a face of complete horror, doing a remarkable impression of a fish out of water. Kara simply took a sip of water to try and break the tension, but you weren’t breaking eye contact. Maybe you wanted her to explain?

“Okay, most of the guys I’ve been with? They are too focused on their phones… and they ditch me after twenty minutes at most,” Kara sighed, adjusting her glasses. “Maybe I’m just not that interesting?”

You sat back a little, rubbing a hand across your jaw and sighing deep in your chest.

“Kara Danvers,” You reached out for her hand, and she blushed at how cold it was. “You have not been treated like the lady you have deserved… it will be an honor to show you a time that you won’t ever forget.”

A single moment passed as Kara smiled and leaned forward, almost challenging you. “I’m keeping score.”

Challenge accepted.

The night was absolutely perfect. Kara had literally never felt more heard in her entire life. At one point during the evening, Kara heard your phone chirp, and you removed it from your pocket. Kara was about to deduct a point for that, but you immediately turned it off and put it face down on the table, apologizing for the interruption.

Surprise was all over her face as you simply cut off all communications with everybody just to listen to her silly story about something that happened at CatCo. And you were hanging on literally every single word she uttered and every syllable that tumbled from her lips.

You had ordered a beautiful bottle of wine to go with the food she ordered, which consisted of pork potstickers, crab fried rice, and a beautiful plate of scorpion roll sushi. You didn’t even bat an eye as you listened to every single word she said and when she would ask you questions, you were happy to answer with honesty.

“-After the army, I was just feeling a bit lost,” You admitted, pausing to take a sip of the wine and leaning back in your chair. Kara leaned forward, almost like she wasn’t close enough to hear you. But in reality, it was so quiet that it was easy to feel like you two were the only ones in the entire universe. “I bounced around from place to place, looking for a job where I felt like I was making a difference. And don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with working retail… but the night life called to me? The club reached out to me, and it was easy for me to be security.”

“Ex-military,” Kara smiled. “No wonder you’re so strong…”

“Well, I do work out every day,” You shrugged like it was no big deal, but in reality, you were flexing and trying to impress her. Kara giggled at seeing you put your hands behind your head and leaned back in her chair herself, allowing a moment for her dinner to settle.

The moment was comfortable as the music played inside of your own little world you two created together. “This is actually really nice…”

You smiled. “I promised a night to remember,” You glanced up at the musicians and then at Kara. “Would you like to dance with me?”

“Here?” Kara giggled, eyes wrinkling with humor as you stood up from your seat and held out your hand. “In the middle of the restaurant?”

All you did was keep your hand out for her and Kara thought about it for a few seconds before deciding screw it and placed her hand into yours. The cold of your rings bit into her warm skin as you lifted her from the seat and placed a gentle hand on her waist. When Kara’s hand met your shoulder, you two began swaying gently back and forth to the soft music inside of the restaurant… It really felt like it was just the two of you in the entire universe.

Kara felt so warm against you… So gentle and so sweet, almost like she was an angel in your presence. You couldn’t help it. Very slowly, you leaned your head down and rested your cheek against the top of her blonde hair, breathing her in like this was going to be the last time you ever got to feel her against you.

Kara bit down on her lip and pressed her face into your chest, feeling the soft swell of your breasts against her face and realizing that she didn’t hate the feeling… In fact, you felt comfortable and cool and all of the things that she loved in the world. But the best part? From here, she couldn’t just hear your heartbeat… she could feel it.

“Your heart is racing,” She whispered against you. Almost comically, your hands began trembling as you slid one through her soft blonde hair and twisted it in between your fingers.

Kara could feel it. You were terrified. “I… Don’t want to mess this up,” You pulled back slowly and looked down to gaze into those beautiful blue eyes. “How’s my score?”

The Kryptonian smiled, her eyes twinkling. “One final test for you?”

“Name it,” You begged.

Kara smiled, hypnotizing you with those pretty glossed lips of hers. “I would rather show you.”

The blonde slid one hand up to the back of your neck and then you felt those warm fingers through your hair. Oh, she was so beautiful, and she felt so perfect in your arms, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss her… but you weren’t going to move until she did. Kara needed to do this first.

She inched closer and closer, and you could feel her breath against your face. It was almost chilled… You waited patiently, hoping she would continue—

The entire restaurant trembled around you both and on instinct, you grabbed at Kara’s waist, preventing her from falling over. The pounding in your chest went haywire as you looked out of the window and saw the street was literally on fire! “What the hell—”

Patrons in the restaurant went crazy and began to run for the exits. But in doing so, you couldn’t have held onto her even if you tried. “Kara? Kara!” You called out her name, fear rising at the idea of losing her within the crowd of terror as patrons shoved you outside and into the streets that were blazing alive.

Standing on the street now, you could only look on in abstract horror as a blue-skinned, horned face alien was breathing literal fire and setting the streets ablaze. You took the smallest step backward and realized that was your mistake. The alien sent a very powerful blast in your direction, and you went from your feet to the air.

The blast lifted you from the ground and your entire body slammed into the windshield of a truck, glass shattering all around you and slicing your sweater and into your skin. You would no doubt need stitches now.

The impact didn’t knock you out, but it made you slightly dizzy as you crawled off the remains of the truck and stumbled against the concrete, bracing yourself against the hood and rubbing at your forehead. “Fuck…” You only had one thing on your mind… “Kara, where are you?”

Another blast was about to hit, and you had no time to brace for impact. The alien seemed to hate you for some reason because he kept targeting where you were standing. You slowly stepped back and your body pressed into the steel of the truck, waiting for the next hit. You crouched down and attempted to shield yourself… but it never arrived.

You looked up and let out a surprised gasp at seeing the red cape in front of you, and beautiful blonde hair that flowed down in waves down her back. It was unmistakable who it was. “S-Supergirl!”

The hero turned to look at you, smiling a little but the grin dropped as soon as she saw the blood seeping into your clothing. “You’re hurt—”

“I’m okay,” You said, trying not to look weak in front of the Kryptonian. Your heart pounded in your chest as you began to look around even more frantically, desperate to find your date in the sea of terrified residents of National City. “Where is she? God, please—”

“Kara Danvers sent me,” Supergirl placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. Your eyes widened in surprise at her statement. Kara sent her? “She’s in a safe place… I hear you are ex-military. Can you help me clear these streets?”

Supergirl was asking for your help? Suddenly the wounds in your skin seemed so minor as you stood up and paid attention to the superhero that began to rise from the ground and look as regal as inhumanly possible. She really was incredible… “You can count on me, Supergirl.”

“Ms. Danvers speaks highly of you,” Supergirl said and bolted away.

You immediately jumped into action and began to direct people away from the threat of the alien terrorizing the city. You helped them down into the subway stations to avoid the dangers of the fire and the battle between whatever that creature was and Supergirl herself. But the more you moved and the faster your heart raced, the more your wounds began catching up with you.

Blood was dripping from your sweater and onto the stone steps of the subway. Sweat dripped from your forehead and you nearly stumbled down the stairs and onto the concrete below you.

“Hey, hey,” The new voice resonated in front of you and all you could do was look up and see a woman with short brown hair and a soft look, almost like she knew you. She was dressed in all black and had a gun on her hip. “Eyes on me? Are you okay?”

When you didn’t respond, could only blink slowly, the woman was getting concerned with your state of health. You very faintly heard her say “Can you hear me?” but then you could only reach for the railing before falling to the concrete stairs.

The horrible sensation of needles pressing into your skin woke you up from the deep unconscious state you were in. It reminded you of the tattoo on your upper back and you just couldn’t stop yourself from hissing in pain and flinching at the stab.

“Ow,” You twitched, opening your eyes and immediately wanting to close them with how bright the lights were. But something was off… This did not smell like some hospital? Isn’t that usually where someone ends up when they hit the windshield of a truck?

“Try not to move,” A voice said from above you. It was the woman from the alley… for some reason, now her voice was recognizable but not when she was impersonating Kara on the phone. The pain of the needle resonated in your back again and you grabbed the table with both hands to force your body to sit completely still.

“Where am I? What is this?”

“Can’t tell you that,” She said. “Just know that it’s somewhere safe. What do you remember?”

“Uh… I remember an ugly-ass alien setting the streets on fire? And then I hit a truck and I was looking for—” The needle in her hands went directly into your shoulder as you jumped upward and almost fell off the table. A tube was in your arm, and you saw a slow stream of blood flooding into your veins. “Kara! Fuck, where’s Kara? Where is she?”

“Hey, hey!” The woman from the subway jumped up and held out her hands that were gloved but covered in your blood. You were frantic, looking around the room like a terrified bird in a cage too small for it to be considered humane. “Hey, you need to calm down. You lost a lot of blood and—”

“I’m not—” You ripped the tube from your arm and the blood splattered to the floor as you began to run at the glass, not fully realizing you were in just your black skin-tight boxers, sports bra, and dog tags hanging from a chain around your neck. Everything else had been torn and drenched in your blood. “No, I… I gotta get out of here, I need to find Kara! Kara Danvers! We… we went out together tonight! I have to go- I need to know that she’s okay!”

“Okay, okay! Calm down, please, relax…” The woman grabbed your forearms and you breathed hard enough to start hyperventilating. Very slowly, she led you back over to the bench and removed the needle from your shoulder. “Look… my name is Alex Danvers. Kara is my sister, okay? And I can promise you that she is fine.”

Your brain skipped like a needle on a record, blanking out for a few painful seconds and trying to make sense of it all. What are the odds that Kara’s sister is the one stitching you up right now in some secret medlab? “A-Alex, like the… special agent Alex that she talked about?”

The woman smirked a little. “Yeah… and you’re the ex-military nightclub guard that she can’t shut up about?”

You simply rolled your eyes and tried to stay upright. Blood loss was definitely getting to you again and you placed both hands on the gurney underneath you. “C-Can’t shut up about me? It’s only been a day.”

Alex was quiet after that as she continued your stitches, meticulously closing you up and removing a piece of glass from your skin in the process. You were so engrossed in the procedure that the soft swishing of the door was almost missed. “How is she?”

You looked up and your cheeks turned a deep pink. It was Supergirl… and she was standing there like the typical hero she was, hands crossed over her chest and looking at you with the most intense blue eyes you’ve ever seen… well, the second most intense blue eyes you’ve seen. Thoughts of Kara surfaced, and you felt nervous all over again.

“All things considered, she’s doing okay,” Alex said, placing a gauze patch over your final stitches and removing her gloves. You sighed and leaned back to sit up straight, rolling your shoulders and attempting to relax. “Just try to calm down and relax, you’ve been through a lot today.”

You nodded and attempted to not look embarrassed at being almost half naked in front of National City’s hero, heart thumping at high speed and your fingers twitching like absolute crazy. “Agent Danvers… I know that this will sound dumb, but can I talk with Supergirl? Alone?”

“That’s not a possib—”

“It’s okay, Alex,” Supergirl held out a hand, attempting to calm the agent. You blushed and began to chew on your thumbnail waiting for Alex to leave the room and stand on the other side of the door. When it slid closed behind her, but she stayed within sight of the glass room, you met Supergirl’s eyes who moved both fists to her hips in the classic hero pose. “What’s wrong?”

“You know, it's funny- I keep playing the… the way we met in my head?” You stood up from the bench and rubbed the back of your neck to try and relax your sore muscles. “And there’s just one thing that doesn’t really make sense.”

“You were in danger, I saved you,” Supergirl stated in a nonchalant way. But she looked slightly twitchy.

“Not that,” You approached Supergirl, noticing that you were slightly over her in height… Just like her. “You said Kara mentioned I was ex-military… I didn’t see her texting during dinner, and she didn’t have any time to tell you about that before the attack.”

“What are you—” You gave the Kryptonian a look and tilted your head.

“You look just like her… Even without the glasses, your eyes are the same. And you…” You reached out and the hero didn’t know better, and you were able to touch her skin before she stepped away. “Are just as warm as she is.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know that it’s you, Kara,” You stated, much to the woman’s shock. “You vanish and then Supergirl shows up? Supergirl tells me something that only you found out ten minutes before? Your sister shows up at the most convenient time to save my ass from bleeding out on the stairs?” You stepped forward, and the super stepped back, spine hitting the wall behind her. “You can’t fool me…”

“You are… just delusional from the blood loss. I’m not Kara Danvers, I don’t—”

Your hand reached out and pressed against Supergirl’s cheek, stopping her words in their tracks as you breathed slowly and stepped infinitely closer. She was so warm and so beautiful, and you knew it was her, but she was so in denial. You knew it was to keep herself safe, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

“If you aren’t my sweet Kara,” You sighed, watching Supergirl’s bottom lip tremble. “Then that means I can’t kiss you…”

Supergirl breathed. “Th-That’s right…”

“But if you are,” You leaned closer, heart racing in your chest. “I still have one point to gain for the best date ever.”

A moment of silence passed between both of you, and Supergirl breathed hard against your face. You felt her cold air again, and now knew it was from her ice-breath. “Final test…”

In seconds, you dipped down and captured her lips in the most intense kiss of your entire life. Supergirl—Kara wrapped both arms around your neck and held you close, her strength now showing from her Kryptonian powers as you placed both hands on her waist and pulled her as close as humanly possible.

The moment was so intense and full of heat between you two that the noise you made when Kara jumped up, wrapping both legs around your hips made you stumble backward and hit the steel wall behind you. A hiss of pain left your lips as you felt your torn skin strain on the stitches. “Fuck, fuck, shit, wait…”

Kara jumped off of you, gasping and realizing that her strength was too much for you. She stepped backward and you turned around, glancing at your back and trying to see if you had accidentally burst any of the stitches. “Okay… okay, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

The hero looked at you and you could see tears brimming in her eyes as she reached forward and gently placed both hands against your cheeks. “I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry I left you! I wasn’t fast enough, and you got hurt and you—”

“Hey, hey, hey no, none of that!” You said, grabbing Kara’s hands and gently rubbing your thumbs across the veins in her hands. Kara whimpered, tears tracking her face. “No, you saved me Kara… You did everything you could and from where I’m standing, you saved everybody, not just me… I would’ve been dead had you not shown up.”

Kara giggled, sniffling through tears. “Heh… guess I owed you from the other night, huh?”

“Yeah… Guess you did,” You brushed her blonde hair away from her face and kissed the space between her eyes, right over the small crease in her brow line. “People are gonna get hurt, Kara… I’m not immortal. I know how dangerous this world is. But I’m strong. I went through war and still came back. I can take a few stitches. Don’t you worry about me.”

“I will always worry about you—”

“And I’ll respect that. But only if I can worry about you… I must protect what is mine.”

“Y-Yours?” Kara blushed from the tips of her ears down to her neck. “Wh-What are you?”

“Be mine, Kara Danvers… Supergirl, I’m asking you to be my girlfriend.”

Your answer was another desperate, fiery kiss. And for a moment, both of you felt like you were flying… But when the kiss broke, you saw that Kara had accidentally lifted you both off the ground. 

[luvdsc]

august.

Bad habits are hard to break, and you’ve made a terrible one of loving him.

pairing :: liu yangyang x reader genre :: fluff, angst ⋮ best friend + college au word count :: 10,500 words warnings :: none. playlist :: time lapse (taeyeon) ⋆ 2 kids (taemin) ⋆ daydreams (exes) ⋆ sharing you (lany) ⋆ august (taylor swift) ⋆ too close to love (will hyde) ⋆ sad stripped (lany) ⋆ strangers (taemin) ⋆ the 1 (taylor swift) author’s note :: can you believe that i literally wrote this entire 10k fic in one day aka today ??? whew this gave me the same rush that i got when i wrote my research paper in the class it was due for the day of, printed it out during break, and handed it in at the end of class :’) ↳ part of the almost collaboration series.

Liu Yangyang is jumping fences to escape late night parties, shared laughter over childhood favorite cartoons on February mornings, midnight dancing in the refrigerator light, and November kisses stolen in between the shelves of the nearby 7-Eleven. He is obscure doodles in the margins of your physics notes, good intentions laced in December’s mistakes, strawberry lemonade and broken truths wrapped in summer bliss, and September endings with honest lies.

He is your August, he is your everything, but he isn’t yours.

AUGUST 2018.

August has barely begun to fade away.

You’re eighteen years old, and you’re drunk off of your first taste of freedom, one toe already dipping into the shiny pleasures of adulthood. Your new roommate, Karina, has excitedly told you about the famous beach night themed frat party that kick starts every school year at your university. Everybody who’s anybody would be there, and your heart already races at the thought of going to your very first college party.

“Coral or blue?” Karina holds up a solid colored neon blue bikini and a striped, bright pink one for you to choose between.

“Blue.” You nod towards the first option, and she discards the other one back into the open drawer. You pull out a marigold yellow one and a black one lined with white strings, wordlessly gesturing towards them, and she immediately points to the latter.

“That one is gonna look so cute on you. Well, both would, but I love that one.”

You grin at her, silently thanking whoever decided to pair the two of you together for the random dorming. “Perfect, thanks. Do you know any of the guys hosting the party?”

“Yeah, Dejun? He’s really sweet and a year above us. I met him in the music elective I’m taking.” She turns to take off her shirt and tosses it to the side, pulling on her bikini and wriggling into a pair of ripped jean shorts. “You?”

“Kind of? Jaemin is in my project group in Intro to Engineering. He’s rushing for that frat.” You quickly change out of your outfit and into your chosen swim top and daisy dukes. You make sure to grab a pair of black flip flops from your closet. The bundle of nerves in your stomach grows as you step out of your dorm with your new friend, a bit anxious but also excited to attend your very first party.

Thank goodness for summer weather. It’s still a nice, warm 75 degrees Fahrenheit according to your weather app when you and Karina finally make your way to the frat house. The sun barely begins to set, but the party slash dayger had started earlier and is in full swing. There’s a DJ set up out front, blasting some sort of EDM music, and the lawn is absolutely covered in foam. You see the source of it shakily set up on the roof of the patio along with a couple of boys sitting up there, Hawaiian shirts barely covering their figures. You catch the eye of Jaemin, who happily waves at you from his vantage point, and you wave back at him.

“Oh my god, I love college,” Karina says, grabbing your arm excitedly as the two of you step into the foam. You reach down to pick up some of it before flicking it towards your roommate, who squeals before scooping some up and throwing it in your direction as well.

“Ready for our first shitty college drink?” You pull her through the mass of other students and towards the horribly decorated tiki bar stationed in the corner of the patio.

“Hell yeah, let’s do it.”

The two of you stumble over, still throwing handfuls of foam at each other amidst giggles before making a full stop in front of the bar. The older boy behind the makeshift counter lazily grins at you both, a shell necklace hanging loosely around his neck, and his unbuttoned orange Hawaiian shirt gives you a nice flash of his toned abs.

“Hey, I’m Johnny. What can I get for you two?”

“Two vodka shots, please.”

“Alright, ID?”

You freeze, and Karina’s grip on your arm tightens, and then Johnny laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Relax, I’m just messing with you, freshie. Two vodka shots coming right up.”

He pulls out two small plastic cups and pours out the drinks for you. “How many do you want?”

“This is good for now, thanks.” You and Karina pick up the drinks, smiling a little nervously at him. He flashes another amused smile at you. “Alright, come back anytime if you want another.”

You move away from the patio, and Karina follows close behind. The two of you throw back the drinks and dispose of the empty cups quickly. The burning sensation in your throat disappears after a few seconds, and you turn to your roommate. “Should we find our friends?”

“I think I see Dejun back there! Let’s go say hi, I can introduce you to him.” Karina drags you through the rising foam, the bubbles clinging to your skin, and when you go past the DJ stand, you feel the pounding bass reverberating in your chest harder than ever. You trek past the gate and into the backyard where the foam has risen to your waist, thanks to the enclosed fences. She taps on the shoulder of a boy with the prettiest almond eyes you have ever seen, and you shyly smile at him when he greets you.

“Hey, I’m Dejun.”

Oh my god, even his voice sounds pretty. Older college boys are definitely better and hotter than high school boys. Heck, they’re better than freshman boys. Nobody wants to date a freshman dude, not even the freshman girls.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” You extend your hand, but then realize how stupid that must be. You hastily start to retract your hand, but he laughs and warmly grasps your hand. Smiling at you, he shakes it firmly, squeezing your hand gently before letting go.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

The butterflies in your stomach grow in volume as the conversation goes on, and you’re positively enamored by the end of the night. Karina had given you a look earlier before walking off with Dejun’s friend and joining the dancing crowd. With the addition of his phone number in your pocket and a promise to show you a new song he’s working on with his guitar next Friday, you’re walking on cloud nine.

“Do you want something to drink? I need a refill, and I can go grab you one,” he asks, and you’re about to offer to go with him, but then you remember the teasing upperclassman and simply agree, asking for another shot of vodka.

After he disappears, you look around, eyeing the crowd and wondering if you can spot your roommate anywhere. You bump into someone lightly and turn around to apologize. Your eyes meet a pair of curiously bright ones.

“Sorry about that, I’m looking for my roomie.”

The boy gives you a Cheshire Cat grin. He’s wearing one of those dumb Hawaiian shirts, too, and it’s unbuttoned, but he has a white T-shirt layered underneath it. “No biggie, it’s a massive party and it’s crowded. Who are you looking for?”

“Ah, I don’t know if you know her, but Karina? She went off with this dude, Kunhang, I think?”

His eyes light up at that name. “Oh, I know him! I saw him earlier by the keg stands inside. Your friend might be there, too. I can—”

“THE COPS ARE COMING!” A loud voice bellows, and you freeze up. Suddenly, the music is shut off as everyone starts running away. You start to panic, the terror rising in your chest, and the boy in front of you grabs your hand and pulls you with him. “What are you doing?! Don’t just stand there! We gotta go!”

“Wait, but Kar—” You start to object, but cut yourself off when you bump into his back as he abruptly stops. He scans the backyard, quickly assessing the situation before turning to you.

“There’s way too many people trapped in here, we’re not gonna make it to the gate. We need to climb over the fence. I’ll hoist you up, and you can help me up from there.”

“I don’t even know you,” you protest, and he throws you a look.

“Hi, I’m Yangyang, nice to meet you, I don’t want to get my ass hauled out by the police and continue the icebreakers in jail, so let’s move now. We good?”

“Yeah, okay, we’re good,” you say faintly, mind still whirling around as you try to grasp the situation. “I’m Y/N.”

“Great, now up you go.”

He immediately picks you up without any warning, and you almost fall backwards, arms flailing before you grasp the top of the fence and pull yourself up. Balancing precariously on top of it, you grab his arm, tugging him up until he’s sitting right next to you, too. The both of you swing your legs over the fence and jump down to the other side. You let out a sigh of relief, squatting down as you clutch your heart.

“Oh my god, we made it. I didn’t get arrested at my first party.”

“What an amazing accomplishment.” Yangyang brushes off the back of his shorts. “We aren’t going to jail. Freshman year is gonna be a breeze if your bar is set this low.”

“Hey!” You frown at him, standing up and crossing your arms over your chest. “How do you know I’m a freshman?”

“It’s written all over your face.” You give him a look, and he relents. “Only a freshman would be this scared of getting caught.”

“So are you an upperclassman?”

“Nah, this is my first party, too. I’m rushing for Nu Chi. Hold on, wait here.” He sneaks around the edge of the fence, peering around for a few seconds before jogging back towards you. “Okay, the police are over there. I’m gonna have to wait a while before going back in.”

“You have to go back?”

“Part of tonight’s rush process,” he sighs before turning to you. “Do you live on campus?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna walk back now,” you answer, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “It’s late, and I’m not in a partying mood anymore.”

“I can walk you back,” he offers, and you shoot him a grateful smile.

“That’d be great, thanks.”

The two of you start the trek back, an awkward lull in the conversation making itself known. You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering slightly when a soft breeze picks up. There’s a light rustling noise, and you pay no mind to it until a soft cloth is draped over your shoulders. Eyes widening, you notice the colorful, palm tree-printed button down shirt wrapped around you and the boy next to you, looking straight ahead with his hands shoved into his pockets. Smiling to yourself, you slip on the shirt, loosely buttoning the front of it.

“So, Yangyang,” you casually begin, testing his name on your tongue for the first time. You decide you like it. It’s cute. He turns to you, raising an eyebrow, and you continue, “Since our lives are no longer in jeopardy, we can continue the icebreakers, right?”

His lips curve into a smile. “Alright, shoot. What’s your first question?”

“Captain America or Iron Man?”

“Oh, Iron Man, hands down. He’s so…”

You meet him in August.

FEBRUARY 2019.

“Hey, where’s your cereal? The Reese’s one?”

February marks six months of your relationship with Dejun. It also marks six months of your friendship with Yangyang. It is time for your weekly Sunday rituals of watching old cartoons and eating breakfast, and you could’ve sworn that box was still half full last week. You rummage through the top drawer Yangyang had designated for snacks and other foods in his dorm as he takes out the milk from his mini fridge and carries it over to his desk.

“I ran out a few days ago. There’s Cinnamon Toast Crunch somewhere in there though.”

With a victorious cry, you manage to pull out the slightly crushed box of the aforementioned cereal from underneath the packages of flamin’ hot Cheetos and spicy nacho Doritos and triumphantly bring it over to your best friend. He already pulls out two bowls (which were stolen from the dining hall) and hands over the plastic spoons in his grasp (which was also taken from the dining hall).

“Thanks.” After dropping a spoon into each bowl, you shake out the sugary cereal squares before pouring the milk because you’re not an absolute heathen who puts milk in first, like Sicheng. Yangyang clambers up to his top bunk bed, and you carefully pass over the two bowls of cereal, milk sloshing precariously near the edges. You climb up afterwards, and he gives you your bowl once you settle down.

“So, Scooby Doo or Pokémon?”

“Mm, we watched Pokémon last Sunday already, so let’s do Scooby Doo this time.” He nods in agreement, pulling up the cartoon from the queue in Netflix, and the two of you lean back against the ginormous mound of pillows and stuffed animals of his that occupy nearly half of his bed.

You’re shoveling a spoonful of cereal into your mouth when he casually asks, “So how’re you and Dejun doing?”

Choking slightly, you quickly swallow. “We’re doing good. I think he booked a table at the Italian restaurant down the street for Valentine’s Day. Are you doing anything for Valentine’s?”

“I’m forcing Renjun to come watch that “‘Happy Death Day’ movie with me.” The faint sounds of the Scooby Doo theme song plays in the background as you hum in acknowledgement, mouth twisting into a mischievous smirk.

“That’s so sweet. So who confessed to who? Not gonna lie, I thought you had a crush on Hyuck, not Jun.”

“... I would shove you right now, but I just did my laundry, and rewashing my comforter is expensive and I’m out of quarters.”

You stick your tongue out at him, and he rolls his eyes before lifting his bowl up to sip the best part of having Cinnamon Toast Crunch: the milk infused with all the cinnamony, sugary goodness. You let your spoon fall back into your bowl with a soft clink, a sudden worrying thought popping into your head.

“I bought him some customized guitar picks and a pretty composition book. Do you think he’ll like it?”

“That’s a pretty basic gift, isn’t it? It feels like something Kun would get him,” he teases, but his heart falls when he notices you chewing on your bottom lip, spoon held limply in your hand.

“Hey, I’m just joking, of course he would like it. He’s completely whipped. He’ll love anything from you.” Yangyang’s voice grows softer, and he fiddles with a stray thread on his comforter, avoiding eye contact with you. “I know I would.”

He looks up slightly and sees you smiling gratefully at him, eyes shining bright. He quickly ducks his head, turning away slightly to hide the hues of pink blooming on his cheeks. He feels you leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder with a quiet sigh, and his breath hitches in his throat.

“Thanks, Yang.”

Replaying the sight of your smile in his mind makes his stomach flip flop, and he resists the overwhelming urge to tell you you’re pretty, pushing it back into the farthest crevice of his mind.  Your head on his shoulder makes him feel like he’s carrying the entire world, and he doesn’t know what to do. He paints on a tight smile of his own, silently hoping you can’t hear the way his heart nearly pounds out of his chest.

Yangyang knows that having feelings for his best friend, specifically one of his good friends’ girlfriends, is something he absolutely should not be doing, but he can’t help it. His stupid heart refuses to listen to his brain. For now, all he can do is desperately hope that this dumb crush of his goes away soon because while 99% of his friends are oblivious (including you), Ten and Donghyuck are not. They’ll be able to spot his feelings from a mile away, like how Kun always knows when there’s a good sale going on at the Asian supermarket downtown (This week, it was the 50% off bean sprouts and chili paste).

Letting out an inaudible sigh, Yangyang carefully rests his head on top of yours. Clutching the empty bowl with one hand, he shoves his other one under his thigh to stop himself from reaching over and tangling his fingers with yours. He stares at the screen, watching until the bright colors blur together.

“Anytime.”

He likes you in February.

AUGUST 2019.

The earth spins around the sun for another time, and August makes its presence known once again. It’s Thursday night, and you’re sitting on the countertop in Nu Chi Theta’s kitchen, swinging your legs back and forth as Yangyang struggles to make some scrambled eggs because the half filled carton of eggs the two of you managed to find is the only thing that isn’t expired (besides Jeno’s protein shakes, but neither of you are gonna touch that cardboard tasting monstrosity).

“Maybe I should make it.” You peer over at the frying pan, wincing when you see the full damage of your future meal. “Did you use oil?”

“Of course I did!” he exclaims indignantly before pitifully pushing around the nearly charred mess of yolk and whites around with his spatula. “I’m not Mark.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter, waving your hand around to dissipate the acrid burning smell, and Yangyang throws you a dirty look. He grabs a fork and stabs a small chunk of the eggs. Picking it up, he brings it closer to his mouth before hesitating. His eyes dart to you, and you raise your eyebrows at him, a silent challenge in your gaze. The sad piece of egg hovers in the air for a few more seconds before he defeatedly drops it back into the pan.

“Okay, what if we just Uber Eats some McDonald’s?” Turning off the stove, he then tosses the remnants of his cooking into the trash and drops the pan into the sink.

“Stellar plan. Best idea you’ve had all night.” You hop off the counter to stand next to him, propping your chin on his shoulder to see him pull up the app. He immediately puts in your usual order along with his before holding it up for you to see it better.

“Looks good?”

“Looks perfect.”

He clicks the confirmation button, and the delivery is set to come in 30 minutes. You’re suddenly hyper aware of how close you are with your chest pressed against his back and hastily move away, warmth spreading across your cheeks.

Glancing over at your best friend, you don't miss the way Yangyang smiles down at something on his phone before his fingers fly across the screen. When he looks up, you immediately turn away, focusing your eyes on anything but him.

“Hey, you’re going to the Alpha Sig formal, right?” Yangyang calls out, and you throw on a teasing grin.

“You mean Alpha Sigma Psi, also known as the sorority I’m in?”

“Ah, right, yeah.” He flushes, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “But you’re going, right?”

You nod, the sudden realization creeping up on you. “Oh yeah, I am, thanks for reminding me. I completely forgot to ask, but do you want t—”

“Ningning just asked me to go with her,” Yangyang blurts out, and you freeze, failing to hide your shock for a split second before you regain your composure.

“Oh wow, that’s great, Yang! I’ll see you there then.” You try to give him a convincing smile. He wrings his hands, biting his bottom lip. Something is on his mind. You can tell. He’s not someone to hold back with his words, but this time, he is.

“I… I don’t know if I’m gonna go,” he says at last. Your heart picks up a little at that. Does that mean he doesn’t want to go to the dance at all? Or does he not want to go with Ningning? If you asked him now, would it make a difference?

“I’ve never slow danced,” he confesses, leaning against the opposite counter, and your heart drops. So that was it. Of course, he wouldn’t reject Ningning. She’s an absolute goddess, heck, you wouldn’t say no if she asked you either. You stamp out that last flicker of hope.

“What if I suck at it?” he continues, absentmindedly carding his fingers through his hair. “Oh god, I bet Yukhei and Kunhang are never gonna let me live it down. I can do choreographed dances, but I’m gonna mess up over a stupid slow dance. But where am I supposed to put my hands?! Like on her shoulders? Her waist? Do I hold her hand?”

Your eyes follow the way his hair ruffles slightly, and you wonder if it’s as soft as it looks. You swallow hard before saying quietly, “I can teach you?”

His hand pauses mid-movement, and your eyes fly down to meet his. His eyes widen, and he contemplates your offer for a split second before nodding excitedly. “Yeah, that’d be great! Can you teach me right now? While we wait for our food to come!”

“S-sure,” you stammer, flustered at the sudden acceptance and his eagerness. “Um, here? In the kitchen?”

“Yeah, why not?” He shrugs before straightening up. “The lights should be dimmed, right? We can kind of mimic that here to set the mood or whatever.”

He goes over and fiddles with the light switch, flicking it on and off, and you laugh, walking over and placing your hand over his. “What are you doing? Some kind of Kevin Nguyen mating call to look for a rave bae?”

“First off, I’m offended that you think I’d be one of them,” Yangyang narrows his eyes at you. “Secondly, I’m trying to make this feel more formal dance-y. Oh, wait!”

He turns off the lights for the last time and reaches over to pull open the refrigerator doors, the artificial fluorescent light pouring out and mixing with the faint beams coming in through the window from the street lamps outside. He grins at you, satisfied. “Romantic, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but the amused smile on your face gives away your true feelings. “Wow, Romeo, you swept me off my feet. The food is gonna go bad, and Kun is gonna kill you for the high electricity bill.”

“What food? Jeno’s protein shakes probably never expire.” He snorts before standing closer to you, his hands resting on either side of you on the counter. You can see the pretty gold flecks in his irises, and your breath gets caught in your throat. “And I guess this means you gotta teach me fast before we waste more electricity, right?”

You place your hands on his chest and lightly push him away, and he laughs, stepping back. You let out a shaky breath, remembering that your lungs need oxygen in order to, you know, continue living.

“Okay,” you clear your throat before pulling out your phone and putting on a slow song. “Ready?”

“You chose Ed Sheeran? Thinking Out Loud? Really?”

You raise your hands up defensively. “Hey, he’s the king of sappy slow songs that all girls want to be played at their weddings for their first dance.”

When your legs don't work like they used to before,

And I can't sweep you off of your feet,

Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love?

Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks?

“Is this the song you want played at your wedding?” He raises an eyebrow at you, and your face grows warm. You ignore the question, and this time, you’re the one taking a bold step forward, a few centimeters now separating you and your best friend. You see his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps lightly before meeting your eyes.

And darling, I will be loving you 'til we're seventy,

And baby, my heart could still fall as hard at twenty-three,

And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways.

“So, your hands go here.” You take his hands and place them on either side of your waist. His arms freeze up. “Relax, Yang. Precious cargo here.”

He lets out a chuckle, loosening his grip as he starts to relax. You reach up and slide your arms around his neck, interlocking your fingers. You gaze back at him, saying softly, “Now pull me closer.”

He does so.

Maybe just the touch of a hand,

Oh me I fall in love with you every single day,

And I just wanna tell you I am.

“And now follow my lead. We’re going to take one step. And then another. We’re just slowly turning in a circle.”

After a few spins and steps, you stop leading and let yourself be led. Yangyang continues to hold onto you carefully, and you can hear him muttering a 1, 2, 3, 4 count under his breath until he finally gets the hang of it. He grows a little braver, pulling you even closer.

So honey now,

Take me into your loving arms,

Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars.

“Are you going with Dejun?” he asks quietly, and you stiffen at the mention at him before shaking your head.

“No, we broke up in July.”

Yangyang falters in his step before recovering. “Oh. You never told me.”

“Yeah.” You struggle to keep your voice level. “I just… he’s your friend, and I didn’t want to make it weird.”

“You’re my best friend though,” he says firmly, looking you directly in the eyes. His grip on your waist tightens. “It’s his loss. That dumbass just lost the best person who’ll ever come into his life.”

You give him a tired half smile, one that doesn’t quite meet your eyes. He hugs you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist and securing you against his chest. You rest your head in the crook of his neck and hope that he doesn’t feel how quickly your heart beats in your chest.

Place your head on my beating heart,

I'm thinking out loud,

Maybe we found love right where we are.

“Thanks, Yang,” you whisper, your breath tickling his skin. He envelops you tightly, and the two of you continue to spin in slow circles, quietly dancing in the refrigerator light as the remaining verses of the song warble in the background.

You think you finally understand what Dejun meant when he said he’s breaking up with you because your heart was already occupied by someone else.

You fall in love with him in August.

NOVEMBER 2019.

[ 12:54 a.m. ] yang 🐏🤪: hey you up?

[ 12:54 a.m. ] yang 🐏🤪: 7/11 in ten mins?

Tiredly rubbing your eyes, you stumble out of your dorm building, one of Jeno’s sweaters draped over your figure. November nights are cold, but this one seems chillier than usual. Yangyang stands near the front steps, and he stiffens up when he notices whose hoodie you’re wearing. He makes no mention of it though when you join him.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He glances over to you as the two of you walk side by side to the small convenience store just on the edge of campus. You shake your head, shoving your hands into the front pocket of your sweater.

“I was up cramming for midterms. I could use a break anyway,” you shrug. A wisp of your hair falls in your face, and Yangyang starts to reach out to fix it, but forces himself to keep his hand by his side. You reach out to carelessly brush it away, tucking it behind your ear.

“What about you?” You look over at him, noting the bags under his eyes. “Rough night?”

He smiles tiredly at you, shoving his hands into his pockets as he kicks a stray pebble along the sidewalk. “More like rough week. Two more midterms left, and they’re for electromagnetic theory and linear systems.”

“Oh god, good luck. I took linear systems today, and it was absolutely brutal.” You wince, brightening up when you see the familiar neon orange, red, and green lights up ahead.

“Maybe I should just withdraw and take it again next quarter,” your best friend grumbles, kicking the stone as far as he possibly can.

“You really want another quarter with Hwang?”

“You’re right,” he sighs, “I just need to get a C+ to maintain my GPA. C if I’m pushing it.”

The two of you hurry over to the 7-Eleven, quickening your pace, until you reach the store doors, and you pull them open. Entering quickly, you push the door open slightly wider, and Yangyang slips in behind you. The cashier doesn’t even look up, texting away on his phone. You make a beeline towards the chips aisle, grabbing a bag of flamin’ hot Cheetos and a pack of sour gummy worms.

“What are you getting, Yang?” You call out over your shoulder, eyes zeroing in on the Red Bull stand at the end of the aisle. When you hear no response, you halt in your steps, turning around. Yangyang stands in the middle of the aisle, looking dazed under the fluorescent lights.

Putting your items back on the shelf, you approach him, reaching out and touching his arm gently. “Yangyang, what’s wrong?”

He jerks back before silently holding up his phone for you to see. There’s a slew of text messages from Ningning a few hours ago, and a quick scan tells you all you need to know. Your heart weighs heavily in your chest when you look back at him, a forlorn expression on his face.

“She dumped me,” he says quietly, shoving the phone back into his pocket. “She said our relationship was like a friendship. She didn’t feel anything. She said we could still be friends if I wanted to be though.”

He jabs a large bag of Lays potato chips angrily as his voice raises slightly higher. “But I don’t get it. Do friends take each other on dates? Do friends spend the night? Do friends hug each other and hold hands walking to class? Do friends spend three hundred dollars to do a surprise weekend trip for their birthday?”

He whirls around to face you, and he’s so close that you can see those pretty golden sparkles in his eyes again. Suddenly, his hands are cupping your face, and the next thing you know, he’s kissing you. Your eyes widen for a fraction of a second before they flutter shut, and you press your lips against his. The 90s pop station music playing overhead seems to fade away, and all you can focus on is that your best friend tastes like spearmint gum and grape soju. He pulls away abruptly, the realization of what he’s done finally hitting him as his chest heaves up and down.

“Do friends kiss like this?”

His voice is barely a whisper, but it cuts through the silence. You feel like you’re spinning out of control, a split second from careening and crashing.

“No, we—they don’t,” you mumble, and Yangyang sees the starstruck look in your eyes, and he wants to apologize: to say sorry for kissing you. But he doesn’t. Because for some reason, he doesn’t feel sorry. He closes his eyes, curling his hands into fists before exhaling slowly. He sees you looking back at him this time, and he wonders if you feel as equally lost as he does.

Because you’re right. Friends don’t kiss each other like that. Friends don’t feel like this about each other.

He kisses you in November.

AUGUST 2020.

The sun still shines bright late into the day, and August greets you like an old friend. You’re absentmindedly doodling in the margins of your notebook designated for Quantum Mechanics. Yangyang sits next to you in the lecture hall, making a bunch of origami cranes before tossing them at Renjun’s head right in front of him. When the bird reaches its target for the sixth time in a row, the annoyed boy whirls around in his seat, glaring at your best friend.

“Stop that,” he hisses, and Yangyang innocently raises his hands in the air. Renjun angrily frowns at him before turning back around in his seat. After a few minutes, Yangyang flicks another crane towards his friend. If this was a cartoon, you would see steam blowing out of your friend’s ears. You silently watch as he wordlessly picks up his phone, seething as he presses on a particular number.

Suddenly, Travis Scott’s SICKO MODE starts blasting, amplified by the large auditorium-like room. The professor goes silent, and everyone turns to see Yangyang scrambling to pick up his phone. He fumbles around for a few seconds with it before finally shutting it off and putting it on vibrate mode. Cheeks burning red, he meekly puts his phone back in his bag and squeaks out a “sorry” before sinking down in his chair (You can see the culprit grinning like the cat ate the canary right in front of him. Karma’s a bitch who also goes by the name of Renjun).

You pat his arm consolingly as he sulks next to you for a few minutes, mouth jutting out into a pout. You decide to take pity on him and lean closer to him, whispering quietly, “Would it make you feel better if I bought you boba after class?”

Immediately, he brightens up. “One oolong milk tea, half sugar with white pearls and coconut jelly?”

“Yes, I’ll pay for your overpriced drink,” you huff, thinking about how his one seven dollar drink could buy you a whole rotisserie chicken that’ll last you a week. At least the fluffy dog at Cloudy with a Chance of Boba is cute and fun to play with. “I’ll even get the honey waffle fries.”

“Heck yeah!” he whisper-yells, fist pumping quietly before he suddenly deflates. “Wait, I can’t. I promised Lia I’d get lunch with her.”

Ah, right, there’s Lia now. Yangyang’s new girlfriend: the only other student who went to Düsseldorf, Germany to study abroad over the summer, and inevitably, the two of them became close. All you really know about her is that she’s pretty, she’s in Iota Theta Zeta, and she followed you on Instagram a few weeks ago (of course, you followed her back because of the unspoken best friend and girlfriend policy).

Her page looks carefully curated, and there’s a common pink tinted theme going on throughout her feed. She has over a thousand followers, and it seems like Yangyang fits perfectly in her magazine curated life, judging by how he occupies nearly every picture taken in the summer with her or how he’s tagged as the photographer. You can’t deny that they look good together, pointedly shoving the green eyed monster back under the bed.

You take a peek at your messy Instagram page where you only post pictures when you’re half drunk, so there’s no semblance of uniformity anywhere. You shrug at him, pocketing your phone.

“No biggie. I’ll see if Karina is up for some boba. She’s been holed up in the dance studio already, and it’s only week two of classes, can you believe it?”

“I remember Ten was the same way,” Yangyang hums, eyes fixated on his phone and fingers tapping away. He laughs quietly, lips curling into a pretty smile, and you glance over curiously.

“What’s so funny?”

“Hmm?” Yangyang finally tears his eyes away from his screen for a split second to look at you before another buzz takes his attention away. He’s distracted, lovestruck, and you wistfully smile before turning back to your notes.

“Sorry, what’d you say earlier?” he loudly whispers a few minutes later, and you barely glance up from the large bulbasaur doodle you’re in the progress of completing right next to the chart marking the wave functions for a bouncing ball that you had copied down from the blackboard.

“Oh, I just asked what was so funny,” you murmur, coloring in the flowers you drew around the Pokémon with your blue ballpoint pen.

He looks confused for a moment before lighting up. “Oh! It was just a German joke. It’s not really funny if I translate it though.”

“Got it, no worries.” You notice the professor starting a new example problem, and you abandon your drawing, focusing on the formulas rapidly filling up the chalkboards in front of you. A quiet chuckle echoes in your ears, and you pause in your note taking to look over and see your best friend still typing on his phone. You make a mental reminder to create a copy of your notes for him later on when you pass the library on the way to the dining hall.

“Hey, Y/N.” Yangyang nudges you gently. “Rain check on the boba?”

You offer him a soft smile. “Of course. Anytime.”

He gives you a quick grin in return before his attention returns to the device in his hand—or rather, the pretty girl behind those texts. Your best friend is sitting right next to you, but you’ve never felt so far away. You know distance makes the heart grow fonder, but you don’t think it’s possible to be even fonder of him than you are now. Bad habits are hard to break, and you’ve made a terrible one of loving him. No wonder it’s beginning to hurt so much.

You lose him in August.

DECEMBER 2020.

December is the coldest month of the year, yet it is also simultaneously the warmest with all the holiday festivities it brings. If Yangyang were to choose a month to describe you, it’d be this one. You are a walking paradox, a conundrum he might never solve, an oxymoron come to life. He doesn’t understand how you can be his best friend, yet feel like a stranger; a friend who he wants as a lover; someone who has created such an impact in his life, but disappears seamlessly here and there.

He wonders when you’ve gotten so distant. He wonders why he never noticed the way you seemed to slip away through the cracks until it’s now nearing the end of the year, and the last time he’s seen you in person was before the November autumn break.

But you’re here.

You’re standing right next to the punch bowl filled with spiked eggnog, wearing a garish knitted button down jumper with brightly colored Christmas lights decorating it. It’s perfectly in theme with the Ugly Christmas Sweater party Nu Chi is holding, and Yangyang is beyond ecstatic to know that you’re attending. He had texted you an invite two weeks ago, and you merely reacted with a thumbs up.

Yangyang swears he was going to follow up with you on that, but he got so caught up with midterms, then meeting Lia’s family for Thanksgiving, then studying for finals, and then finally, preparing for this party. Buying enough beer for twenty-three keg stands is a lot more difficult than it seems (Donghyuck’s car broke down halfway during one trip, and they all had to carry back the packs of beers to the house in 40 degree weather in their Sperry boat shoes and Patagonia long sleeves that definitely weren’t cut out for this kind of weather).

His girlfriend is somewhere in the room, wearing the other half of the reindeer sweater she forced him to put on, but all he can focus on is you. He hurriedly makes his way over, skidding to a stop in front of you, and you’re startled before a smile spreads across your face.

“Hey, you, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You grin at him, reaching out to poke the reindeer tail sticking out from the front of his itchy sweater (Lia got to wear the head half of the reindeer, while he was stuck with the behind).

“Yeah, how have you been?” He reaches around you to pick up a cup and pour himself some eggnog. He offers you one, but you decline with a small shake of your head.

“I’ve been doing good, a bit tired with finals coming up, but what’s new?” You joke, grabbing one of the sugar cookies from the table. You’re secretly surprised that they actually have real food (No, Hyuck, Jell-O shots do not count as real food). You suspect Jaemin has something to do with it. He always contributes to the annual Greek row bake sale.

“Are you here with someone? Did Karina come?” he asks, curiosity coating every word. He looks around for your roommate, but she’s nowhere to be found.

You shake your head. “No, I actually came with—”

“Me!”

Yukhei bounds over, slipping an arm over your shoulder. He hands you a new cup of apple cider, which you accept gratefully. He grins happily at Yangyang, who freezes up at the sight of his tall friend. “I asked her to be my date for the party, and she agreed. She also made our sweaters! Aren’t they so cool? There’s even lights that spell my name and play Christmas songs. She did a bunch of cool programming tricks to make them work.”

Yangyang realizes with a start that the two of you are indeed wearing matching sweaters, and that leaves a rather sour taste in his mouth (and it definitely wasn’t because of expired eggnog). The corners of his lips tilt downward as he presses his lips together tightly.

“So… you two are together?” He gestures between you and Yukhei with a forced laugh. Jealousy never did look good on anybody, and unfortunately, he’s not an exception.

“We’re just seeing each other and seeing how it goes for now,” you answer quietly, noting the way your best friend reacts. You have always been good at reading him, and you tread carefully now, not wanting to make a scene. Drunk Yangyang never holds anything back, and he’s had quite a few pre-game shots already (It definitely doesn’t help that he’s a lightweight, too).

“I see. How did you guys meet? Or I guess, start talking?” He attempts to look intimidating, staring down at Yukhei, but it’s a difficult feat to accomplish, especially when he’s trying to stare down a six foot guy who’s more like an overgrown puppy and his friend.

“Oh, she came by for one of your boba runs, but you were still out with Lia. So I asked if I could go with her.” Yukhei flashes his pearly whites at you, and you chuckle, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“I said yes, and we hit it off, I guess.”

“You guess? And you took him on our boba runs?”

“You were out with Lia,” you say defensively, and he blanches when he hears his girlfriend’s name come out of your mouth.

“You could’ve waited,” he mutters, but you still hear it, and you give him a scathing look, finally too tired of this push and pull game that’s been going on behind the scenes for nearly three years now.

“I did. I waited over an hour here for you, but you didn’t show up or even text me that you were gonna be late. Yukhei was nice enough to offer to go with me.”

He stays silent, and you gnaw on your bottom lip, unsure of what to say next. Yukhei looks at you in concern, but you reach up and squeeze his hand reassuringly, which your best friend doesn’t fail to notice, his lips pressing into an even thinner line.

“I don’t understand what the deal is,” you finally burst out, startling both boys. “What’s the big deal about me and Yukhei going out?”

Something inside of him finally snaps. “The big deal is that you’re basically sleeping through my list of friends and then breaking up with them! First Dejun, then Jeno, now Yukhei? Who’s next? Should I give Renjun a heads up? Pencil you into his planner? Or Sicheng?  Sungchan? You have a class with him, so you’re bound to flirt with him, too, right? When are you gonna stop fucking around with my frien—”

He gasps, stopping mid-outburst as he stares at you in disbelief. Apple cider slides down from his hair, dripping onto his face and soaking into his sweater, the sticky juice clinging to his skin uncomfortably. You’re absolutely seething, the empty cup crackling in your clenched fist. Shocked, Yukhei carefully tugs the plastic away from you and places it on the table before replacing it with his own hand, his thumb caressing circles on the back of your hand soothingly. Yangyang doesn’t dare to meet his furious gaze, lifting his chin to look at you instead. The entire room has hushed down by now, all eyes staring directly at the three of you in a mixture of surprise and slight terror.

“Screw you, Yangyang,” you say lowly, voice shaking with anger. Tears form on the edge of your waterline, but you blink them away before hastily brushing a stray droplet from your cheek. “They asked me out. I said yes. We went out. It didn’t work out. We move on. Just like how you’ve gone out with my  friends. And they didn’t work out, so you moved on. So what’s so wrong about that? What’s so wrong about trying again to find love?”

He can’t answer you, curling his hands into fists until his fingernails indent miniature crescents in his palms—until the pain overtakes the feelings that are threatening to spill from his heart. Yangyang may not be yours, but he doesn’t like the fact that he can’t call you his either.

Love. That’s what you want, that’s what you crave, but not if it’s from him. So what is he supposed to do with love that’s unwanted? It’s bursting at the seams, and he has nowhere to hide it anymore.

He loves you in December.

AUGUST 2021.

August sneaks up on you this time around, and you find yourself in Kunhang’s apartment. All of your close friends are here, starting the last year of youth with one final first day party. You think back to that day three years ago: when your eyes met a pair of equally bright ones for the first time.

Curled up next to Yukhei on the couch, you look across the room and meet those very same eyes, although they seem hazier this time around. Lia is wrapped around his arm, and you think it’s quite ironic how both your and his relationships remain the same after all this time. Perhaps you both were bad luck for each other, leading to the other’s demise with short lived relationships. He looks away from you.

The rules of truth or dare are simple. You cannot ask the same person again until three other people have been asked first, and no one can be asked more than three times in each round. And, for reasons you can’t understand, everyone seems to take the code of truth seriously.

“I’ll start,” Kunhang announces, leaning back in one of the several beanbags he has in his place. “Goeun, truth or dare?”

Goeun sighs, leaning back on the palms of her hands. “Dare.”

“You and Mark, seven minutes in heaven.” Hendery points towards the coat closet, and the immediate reaction of hoots and wolf whistles has the girl rolling her eyes. With an exasperated huff, she stands up and pulls a red faced Mark along with her.

“Wait, you gotta pick the next person!” Donghyuck calls out, and she stops in her tracks, throwing open the closet door and shrugging. “You can choose for me.”

With that, she and Mark disappear behind the door, and Donghyuck turns toward the rest of the group, eyes glimmering mischievously. You pay no attention to him, absentmindedly playing with Yukhei’s fingers. You tug one of his rings off his finger, and he smiles, plucking it from your grasp carefully before holding your hand. He carefully slides it onto your right ring finger, but it falls off. Grinning, he pretends to try it on every single one of your fingers until finally settling on your thumb. The ring fits snugly there, and you admire it, wriggling your thumb around.

“Well, look at that. It fits you. I think that means we’re meant to be,” Yukhei says, smiling broadly, and you laugh, interlocking your fingers with his again before glancing down at the silver engraved band resting on your finger. The weight of the metal feels heavy resting against your knuckle.

“Yangyang, truth or dare.”

Donghyuck’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you instinctively perk up in your seat at the sound of his name before freezing up in your spot. Yukhei squeezes your hand softly, and you tighten your grip around his fingers.

“Truth.”

“You’re no fun,” Donghyuck sighs, slouching back against the armrest. Yukhei leans over and whispers something in his ear before settling back next to you, shifting slightly to wrap his arm around you. Donghyuck lifts an eyebrow at your boyfriend before shrugging. “Okay, here’s an easy one. Are you in love…”

“Yes.”  is his immediate response, and you notice how Lia absolutely preens next to him.

“… with Y/N?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you immediately turn your head to look at Yukhei, your eyes growing wide in horror. He looks apologetic, shoulders drooping. “I’m sorry, but just the way he looks at you, it’s so obvious, and I had to know.”

You whip around to face the boy in question. With bated breath, you look at him, but Yangyang stares at the center of the floor, struggling internally. Everyone is quiet, and it reminds you of the calm before a storm. At last, he looks up, gazing right at you, and you can almost swear that you see those pretty little gold flecks in his irises from here.

“Yes,” Yangyang confesses quietly.

There’s almost a collective gasp rippling through the room, and Yukhei lets out an inaudible swear under his breath. Your grip on his hand grows slack as you fumble to get a grasp on the entire situation.

He loves you. He loves you. He loves you.

The words echo in your mind like a mantra until it grows so loud that you can’t hear any of your own thoughts anymore. Lia is in absolute hysterics, demanding an explanation from him, but he merely shrugs her off. Standing up, he quickly moves to leave the room, glancing at you one more time before disappearing out the front door.

It’s like your body is on auto-pilot after this. You drop Yukhei’s hand, immediately standing up and rushing after your best friend, paying no mind to the hushed whispers that only seem to increase in volume once you leave. You step out onto the porch, and there he is, sitting on the steps.

You quietly stand behind him, contemplating what to say and carefully choosing your next words. But there’s only one question on your mind.

“Why did you say that?”

He stays silent for a moment, staring out at the moon shining brightly ahead. “Because I meant it.”

Your heart wrenches in your chest. “You shouldn’t.”

He finally turns to look at you, an indescribable look in his eyes. It reminds you of heartbreak. “But I do. And I tried not to for the past three fucking years, but I can’t anymore.”

“Since freshman year?” You feel the tears well up in your eyes, and this time, you let them go. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yangyang grips onto the edge of the stairs tightly, frustration ringing with every word that falls from his mouth. “Because I was scared. And I thought you never felt the same way. You’re my best friend, and I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Yang…” You whisper, hand reaching out as you let it hover over his shoulder for a few seconds. Then, you pull back, curling your fingers into fists, pressing crescent indentations into the palms of your hands.

He stands up, whirling around to look at you, desperate. “Tell me I’m not too late. Please, Y/N.”

Something inside of you breaks. You open your mouth and start to say something when the door opens behind you. Turning around, you see Yukhei. His eyes widen when he sees the two of you standing there.

You know this is it. This is the moment. This is where you have to decide.

“I, I was just looking for you. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Yukhei awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, taking a step back. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna go back in and—”

“No, wait, it’s okay,” you gently interrupt him. You reach out and slip your hand into his, and he relaxes, giving you a relieved smile. You smile softly back at your boyfriend before turning to face him, eyes apologetic.

“I’m sorry, Yangyang.”

He and you are asymptotes: two lines curving towards each other, but never touching; two hands reaching towards each other, but never interlocking; two people tangling their red strings of fate, but never tying.

You give him one last glance before going back inside with Yukhei.

You break his heart in August.

SEPTEMBER 2021.

September is supposed to be a new beginning: the transition from summer to autumn. Yangyang doesn’t think he can let go of you as easily as the trees shed their green for gold and red. Wherever he goes, wherever he looks, little reminders of you bloom in every crevice. You’re absolutely everywhere and nowhere, and it drives him crazy.

He thinks he’s gone completely insane when he hears your laugh while he’s walking to the laundromat one day. He shoves his airpods in and continues on his way until he sees you. Walking across the street, there you are. You’re on the phone with someone, and he contemplates going over to say hello. But suddenly, you’re hanging up the phone and waving eagerly at someone. When he turns his head to look, his heart drops and gets buried six feet under. He hurriedly ducks into a nearby bookstore and watches as you run up to Yukhei, slipping your hand into his like it’s second nature to you now. The two of you walk off together, and Yangyang is left standing at the window of the store until the shop owner politely asks if there’s anything he needs.

He doubts a time machine is something they have in stock, so he silently shakes his head and steps out onto the street once again. It is now silent and empty.

He loses you in September.

AUGUST 2022.

A lot can change in eleven months.

You’re twenty two years old, but you feel like you’re eighteen again. You know you’re going to see him for the first time since September at Kun’s housewarming. You had repeatedly assured Yukhei that you’d be fine. After all, life goes on; the world doesn’t stop just because you had a falling out with your best friend, even if it may have been a little more than that. Nevertheless, a year has nearly passed. Time is known to be the best healer, and perhaps your heart has shed its old skin and habits.

Your hand is safely enveloped in Yukhei’s, and the two of you walk towards your older friend’s new apartment. He playfully swings your interlocked hands back and forth, and you giggle, tightening your grip around his fingers. You stop in front of the door, the muffled sounds of a party slipping through the cracks. You suck in a breath, shoulders tensed. He’s in there.

“Are you okay?”

Yukhei squeezes your hand gently, voice laced with concern. You remember to breathe, exhaling slowly and relaxing before nodding. You smile up at him. “I’m okay.”

“If you want, we can go back home now, have another NCIS marathon, and drink this by ourselves.” Yukhei waves around the nice bottle of wine the two of you had brought for Kun. “We can even stop by the convenience store and get some ramen.”

You laugh quietly, the corners of your lips upturning with mirth. “It’s okay, I’m fine, Yukhei, I promise. Plus, I have you, right?”

He brightens up at that, practically beaming at you, and your heart skips a beat. “Right!”

You reach out and knock on the door. Kun greets the two of you, and you enter his apartment. Yukhei still doesn’t let go of your hand, and you follow behind him as you weave your way through the living room, greeting some of your friends. You hear Kunhang calling out to your boyfriend from the kitchen and feel him hesitate next to you. You squeeze his hand gently before letting go and nudging him in the direction of his friend. Yukhei gives you one last look, but you wave him off, smiling goodnaturedly and silently assuring that you’re okay. He swoops down and leaves behind a soft kiss for you before going.

You walk over to the alcohol table, pouring yourself something to drink. Leaning against the wall, you take a sip of your drink, your eyes flitting over the rim of your cup and slowly scanning the room. It feels like forever, like everything is moving in slow motion, like the world is submerged underwater, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.

You find him easily. After all, it’s hard to forget someone whose features you’ve memorized over the past four years. Your eyes map the delicate outline of his face once more, and for a moment, you wonder if red is still his favorite color, or who he shares a carton of Ben and Jerry’s with nowadays. You wonder if he thinks of you sometimes, too.

But then, you wonder where Yukhei is. You search around until you see your boyfriend still standing in the kitchen, laughing at something your mutual friend said. Your eyes soften when you see him grab your favorite snack. You turn back around, your heart swelling in your chest tenfold, and your lips curl upwards, an endeared expression on your face.

That’s when you notice that he’s looking at you.

You brace yourself, waiting for the tidal wave of emotions to wash over you and the quickening of your heart rate to greet you like an old friend. Because that’s what always happens when you’re around him. After all, he is the biggest what-if in your life. He is someone you almost loved forever, someone you almost stayed for.

And yet, nothing happens. You wait a little longer. The world still goes round, and you’re still breathing. There’s no shortness of breath, no erratic heart palpitations, no sweaty palms, absolutely nothing. Liu Yangyang is a stranger in a familiar body, and your heart remains still.

You give Yangyang a faint smile, nodding towards him, and it feels like a sudden jolt in his heart. Time stops, and all he can see is you. You look beautiful. You have always been beautiful. This is his chance. Whatever higher entity out there has taken pity on him and given him a second try to make it right. He finally takes a step towards you, and the tender, encouraging expression in your eyes gives him the strength to take another one. After all, the eyes are the windows to the soul. Clutching his drink in hand, he pushes his way through the crowd. He’s only eight, seven, six, five steps away from you now. A smile grows on his face as relief curls around his heart like a bandage. You’re standing there, waiting for him, smiling at him.

And suddenly, you’re no longer looking at him.

You stopped looking at him.

Yukhei makes his presence known next to you, excitedly chattering about something and gesturing towards the kitchen as he hands you something to eat. It’s a snickerdoodle cookie. Your favorite. Your eyes are fixated on the tall boy, positively sparkling as you beam at him.

Yangyang feels like he can’t breathe. The bandage is ripped off, and all he can feel is excruciating pain like a thousand pinpricks into his heart before the numbness hits. He freezes, rooting himself in that spot on the scratched hardwood floor as his colleagues and friends continue to jostle around him. As his world crumbles around him, he can’t tear his eyes away from you. They stay on you, the barest traces of nostalgia lingering in the dimmed golden flecks of his irises that you had still admired all those months ago. It’s like he’s trapped in a silent film, stuck in a fish bowl and swimming in circles, and he watches in horror as you outstretch your hand and intertwine your fingers around Yukhei’s, leaning up to press your lips against his tenderly. Your boyfriend looks at you like you hung the stars in the night sky yourself (He would believe it if you said you did).

You don’t look at him like that anymore.

Yangyang remembers when you used to. When you used to love him. When you were almost his. He feels something inside of him break for a second time.

The world continues to spin, and yet, he’s still not moving. He’s stuck in quicksand, sinking deeper and deeper as everyone around him moves on—as you move on. He desperately tries to keep you in his view, and his feet finally pick up as he lurches forward. He’s not fast enough. You’re slipping away, walking away from him, hand in hand with Yukhei, disappearing around the corner of the hallway, and he can’t do anything about it. It’s too late. He’s too late. The sticky remnants of cheap beer run down his wrist, and it finally registers in his mind that he had crushed the flimsy plastic cup in his hand sometime in between now and then. In a crowded room full of people, he’s left standing there, alone and lonely.

Almost is the worst way to love someone, Yangyang bitterly realizes. It hurts to lose someone you almost love. No, it was never an ‘almost’. He most certainly loved—loves—you. And it should be impossible to lose someone who was never his to begin with, yet he has. All this time, he thought he had you, but it had always been the other way around.

He was your August, he was your everything, and he is yours.

But you will never be his.

You let go of him in August.

[phoenixyfriend]

Systems’ Scourge

I am no Jedi.

She says the words every time someone questions the sabers. She says it, day in, day out, and tells herself to believe it. She says it, and word spreads, because this way her actions don’t reflect on the Republic.

She was kicked out of the Order because she was framed for terrorism.

It’s all she does now, technically. She’s a terrorist, by some definition, even if her chosen targets are slavers and drugs lords.

Her actions must not reflect on the Republic.

“General.”

She turns away from the transparisteel, away from the blur of hyperspace, and into the arms of the man she trusts above all others.

“Almost there?” she asks.

“Another hour,” Rex confirms. He waits until she steps to join him, brushing their shoulders together as they walk through the ship, beskar to durasteel.

(Bo-Katan hadn’t necessarily liked her very much, but she’d had her own strange code of honor. She chose her payments, but she ensured compensation when and where she could. And so it went: beskar for the girl without a home who helped Mandalore, even as it almost killed her.)

(The boys... well. They haven’t been able to afford proper durasteel and beskar alloy armor for everyone yet, but they’re working on it.)

We are not Mando’ade.

“Kix got back to me,” he says. “We running low on bacta again.”

“Do we still have the funds from Zygerria?”

“More than.”

“Approved,” she says, and he laughs. She rolls her eyes. “You already handled it, didn’t you?”

“Of course, cyar’e.”

She doesn’t outrank him anymore. They are equals, in this and all things. He can approve anything she can. The only time she has authority is when they’re playing roles for the underworld.

The only time he has authority is when it comes to Kamino.

“What ate it up this time?” she asks instead.

“Had a few new arrivals,” he says. “Nobody you knew, mostly shinies. Fives is helping them adjust to being alive again.”

“Echo isn’t helping?”

“Migraines.”

“I see,” she says, and casts her eyes across the corridors. Strangely empty. “I’m assuming you’re leading me somewhere?”

“Jesse wants to give you a cultural debrief before we land.”

“We’ve been to Serenno,” she says, frowning heavily. “Dooku knows us. Does Jesse think he’s already fallen and we need to readjust? I didn’t think he was anywhere close last time we checked in.”

“He’s got visitors,” Rex says, grimacing. “From the Trade Federation.”

Oh, lovely. “He does realize the galaxy knows my face at this point, right? Isn’t he worried about the Federation getting word to Republic that the Count is hosting the terrorist they’ve spent two years fearing and hunting?”

Rex shrugs. “I think Jesse might be planning a disguise.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Great. Just love the smell of cosmetics.”

"Only a few hours,” he assures her.

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighs, and decides to switch the topic. “The shinies, all 501st?”

“Affirmative.”

“And still no other GAR ships on the comms?”

“None yet.” He’s as unhappy about it as she is. She doesn’t even after feel out along the bond. He’s still holding out hope for a Marshall Commander that didn’t live long enough to see Order 66 hit. She’s still hoping for almost any Jedi that remembers the war, instead of the pleasant strangers that call her Dark.

I am no Jedi, she tells them, even as their faces shade towards confusion at her white blades. She is not Fallen, and it shows in her kyber. They don’t know what to make of her.

“Republic might start building their own army soon,” she says instead. It’s an old refrain. They both know Kuat is building ships to match their precious Venator. The Survivor, she’d named it, unable to figure out which broken vessel had been given to her in this time she’d never lived. “We need allies, not just Dooku’s bankrolling. Has Fett--”

“No,” Rex says, short and grim. “Denal got close, we think, but he said he’s not going to talk to dar’manda that take orders from a Jedi.”

Lots wrong with that sentence.

“Didn’t get him to look anyone’s face?” she guesses.

“Not enough time,” Rex says. “Denal says it was a firefight. Couldn’t risk taking a helmet off.”

“And without the faces, nobody could get him to listen anything else,” she concludes. “You’d think he would have seen the wanted posters.”

“Think he’s of the opinion that if it walks like a Jedi, talks like a Jedi, carries a saber like a Jedi...”

She rolls her eyes. “So we’re back to square one, looking to hire on new soldiers that someone’s going to have to train, that we’ll have to convince Dooku to help pay for when we can’t appropriate funds from the Hutts, that probably won’t measure up to clone standards or have any sense of how to work with you, and will be security risks.”

“About sums it up, sir.”

She shoots him a look. “You’re making fun of me.”

He grins, easy as anything. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Sir.”

She bumps her fist into the metal on his upper arm. “Remind me why I married you?”

“Well, we were pretty kriffed up,” Rex fake-muses. “Pretty sure the trauma was a big part of it.”

“Of course.”

“And we can’t forget that time you started crying on me while we were making out.”

“No doubt.”

“And we’ve been friends for the better part of a decade now, so that’s going on the list.”

“I wouldn’t dream of not including our many years of shared horrors.”

“Or that Dooku kept asking when we were going to make things official.”

“I never should have told him I was part of his lineage,” she sighs, just as they reach the door to Jesse’s favorite Cultural Debrief room. There’s an old-school projector in there, and far more cosmetics and undercover costumes than the average person would expect. It’s a fun room.

Ahsoka turns and lifts up on her toes, just enough to press her lips to his. Rex tilts his head, presses back just a moment, and then pulls away. They grip each other’s forearms, and Ahsoka doesn’t shy away when he presses his forehead to hers.

“How much longer?” he asks.

It’s the same question, every time. She never has an answer.

She was raised to keep the peace. He was born to fight for it. Neither of them have ever truly known it.

She’s not sure they ever will.

“Jesse’s waiting,” she mutters, and pulls away. He matches her smile, small and tired, but meant only for the other. She turns to the door, takes a deep breath, and steps on through. “Okay, who are we preparing today, because I’m sure as hell not meeting Gunray as General Fulcrum.”

“We’re thinking Princess Ashla this time,” Jesse says, completely unruffled by the loud entrance. “Unless you want to play up the ‘Dooku’s adopted granddaughter’ thing. The Count might appreciate it.”

“Hard pass,” she says, dropping into the makeup chair. “Princess Ashla it is.”

I am no Jedi, and so I do what they cannot.

[cherrrysue]

hiii how are you? can i ask what's ur fav fic to read? i'm new to this fanfic thing

first of all check my long fics list it contains 80k+ words fics that i love so much. my fav from the list is definetely escapade. i also gonna add couple more down below.

My Favorite Fics to Read

we can take long road home by @pinkcords

E, 45K

Late afternoon seeps into the cab, just shy of too warm, and the breeze that crosses window to window tosses their hair in their eyes, around their faces. They ride in pleasant silence, the radio humming softly in the background as they speed down the coast, and when Louis looks over, Harry’s smiling to himself, a private happiness born from whatever’s going on in his head. Louis likes to think it has something to do with him, or at the very least, this adventure they’ve embarked on together, chosen to see through to San Diego.

Or, Harry and Louis fall in love down the coast of California.

Our Lives, Non-Fiction by @indiaalphawhiskey

E, 113k

Heralded as the next Neil Gaiman, Louis Tomlinson does not appreciate being told that his very serious novel is in dire need of a PR boost. Even worse, that it comes in the form of a joint book tour with the UK’s #1 online romance-writing sensation Marcel Styles. Already turbulent at best, their partnership takes a drastic turn when, overly stressed about his looming deadline, Marcel accidentally blurts out a secret: though he’s famed for his scorching hot literary love scenes, he is, actually, a virgin.

Convinced that the only way to rid himself of writer’s block is to gain some experience, Marcel asks Louis, author-to-author, to sleep with him – for Science. And of course Louis agrees because, well, what on Earth could possibly go wrong?

Or, a lesson in romance that proves that sometimes the best love stories aren’t always by the book.

Manhattan from The Sky by sincewewereeighteen

E, 47K

Harry's been raised to know that successful men do not fall in love. Louis believes that love is all you need to be successful in life. They meet.

Landslide by aimmyarrowshigh, spibsy (lucy_and_ramona)

E, 143K

The year is 1976. In November, Jimmy Carter will take control of the White House. Americans are meeting Laverne & Shirley at their apartment in Milwaukee. Hotel California diverges from the reign of Kool & the Gang. And the FBI is still reeling from the repercussions of Watergate, the tragedy at Wounded Knee, Operation Family Secrets, and the strategic terrors of the anti-cult movement.

That's what Special Agent Harry Styles has been told is the basis of his mission to an abandoned farmhouse in rural New Hampshire.

With his hair grown out long and his shirt untucked, he's going undercover to do reconnaissance on suspected cult leader Louis Tomlinson, who has led a group of people out into the middle of nowhere, leaving no record of the life he'd had before. All Harry knows is what the agency gave him: Tomlinson's name, and instructions to figure out what he's doing with the eleven people he brought with him.

In the year that Harry spends undercover and under Louis Tomlinson's wing, he learns more than he ever expected.

Hearts Don't Break Around Here by sincewewereeighteen

E, 26K

"Another car has stopped at the beginning of the carpet. People are going to collapse any time soon, and Louis knows why.

Harry Styles has just arrived. And Louis. Well. Louis is a grown man. He curses himself a hundred times for even letting his heart race in his chest. He knew they were bound to meet tonight.

What the hell is wrong with him?"

Or: the one in which Harry's having his big movie debut and Louis sings on its soundtrack. 

Adore You by isthatyoularry

M, 66K

“We invited our new acquaintances from uptown. You’ve simply got to meet their oldest son!” said his mother with a flourish, and suddenly it became abundantly clear as to why his parents had so adamantly demanded he join them in Deansville for the entirety of the summer.

Against his wishes, Harry spends the holidays at his family’s summer estate, and is reluctantly pulled into a courtship he didn’t ask for. Harry doesn’t want to get married, but Louis does. They don’t fit, but then again they really, really do.

Vaguely set in the 1920’s. Headpieces, jazz, fashionable canes, and flapper dresses, and that.

Time Passed by coffinofachimera

E, 66K

Louis struggles with their relationship as Harry grows into his identity.

I've Been Hoping You'd Be Somewhere Better Than This by runaway_train

E, 39K

“Does she know who it is then, from the New York office?” Louis enquires.

“Yeah, some guy Henry? Henry Styles I think she said?"

“Harry.”

“What?"

“Harry. His name is Harry Styles.” His heart sank. Louis hadn’t met him, they had only shared a couple of emails back and forth, but he knew exactly who he was. And Harry hadn’t just been killing it in the Big Apple, he’s been ripping the place to absolute shreds, nailing some of the most lucrative accounts in the business.

Louis is so fucked.

Or The one where Louis is up for a promotion, he just has one tiny, little problem standing in his way.

Chasing Empty Spaces by Lis (domesticharry)

E, 79k

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

beautiful sound beautiful noise by delsicle

M, 53k

Louis is a washed-up pop star who has spent nearly a year hiding away from the world. Harry is a guardian angel who is assigned to live with him for the summer. Neither of them quite get what they’re expecting.

the impossible now by stylinsoncity

M, 64k

A wish on Christmas Eve sends Louis to an alternate dimension where Harry is a member of One Direction.

please leave a like and reblog ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

go find a missing fic or request to get fic sorted by categories in my inbox

[buckyownsmylife]

Secret Door: the one where there’s a ball and some undisclosed feelings

President James Buchanan Barnes is the first president to occupy the White House without a first lady ever since… well, President James Buchanan Barnes. But he’s not too worried about it, since he got his best friend from college acting as his VP, supporting him just like only someone who knew everything about him could do. What happens when feelings from the past start to resurface?

Or the one where you and Bucky used to date but now you got a country to run.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Are you free?” I asked as I chanced a glance inside the oval room, only to find James looking down at nothing in particular with a defeated look on his face. My movement had him glancing up to meet my eyes though, and a beautiful smile brightened his expression at the realization that I was the one talking to him.

“For you? Always.” He excitedly waved me in, already leaping out of his chair. “Come here, darling. I need one of your hugs.” I opened a little smile of my own at his request, but more tentatively than I would have if I hadn’t seen just how tired he looked before he saw me.

I was worried about him. Even now, while I had his arms around my body, his beard tickling my neck, it didn’t seem like he was really here at all. And it felt like he thought the same if the way he squeezed me was any indication of just how hard he was trying to be more present in the moment we were currently still living in.

I tried to pull away, but his arms only tightened around my smaller body, and so I relented, letting him rely on me for as long as he needed to. It was the least I could do, not for the President of my nation, but for my best friend since college.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” I asked once he finally let me go, still keeping me close by holding my wrists delicately but with purpose. He seemed to consider my words, lips pursed in thought, that cute little frown that made me want to bury my thumb between his eyebrows appearing on his face, but ended up shaking his head.

“Not really. What I would like is for you to come have dinner with me tonight. Do you think you can make it?” Of course I could. No one in their right mind would pass up the opportunity for dinner with the President, if not for his title, at least for his personal chef, but it wasn’t my case.

I could never say no to him because his company was my absolute favorite. I’d always chosen him over anything, and he’d done the same for me. But tonight, I knew neither of us could retreat into any sort of personal encounter because we both had the same social gathering to attend.

“I’d love to, but the ball, remember?” I watched as realization struck over Bucky, and he slapped his own forehead and groaned, making me giggle. He really was such a manchild at times, even if only with me.

“Ugh, do we really have to go?” Rolling my eyes at his whining, I fixed his suit while I bit on the inside of my cheek, so I wouldn’t just relent and laugh. I knew he was only saying this for show, an immature effort to get on my nerves.

I really did know him too well.

“Yes, we do. We can have dinner tomorrow. I’ll ask your assistant to clear off your schedule, I don’t know of any major commitments you have to attend.” When I finished fixing his clothes, I noticed the lack of response, and so I looked up to find him staring down at me with the most lovesick expression in his eyes. I laughed, but only to try to soften the mood of the room, ignore the way it made my heartbeat pick up.

“You really are the perfect woman, have I ever told you that?”

“Only all the time.” I smiled, thinking back fondly on everything we’d shared that led us here. It was a hell of a ride, but it was definitely easier with him by my side.

“It’s because it’s the truth.” I nodded, accepting his words as I prepared to leave, but then a gentle hand on my elbow had me looking back. “What color is your dress for this evening?” The question made me curious, but it wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary. Bucky was always looking for ways to show me that he cared.

“Yellow.” He nodded, releasing me as a silent way to say that I could leave. I smiled back at him, nodding in return.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

Bucky’s P.O.V.

The sound of heels against marble in the nearly empty hallway alerted me of her arrival. Turning around, I found her wearing the most beautiful and elegant yellow dress, the exact shade I had chosen to wear as a tie for the evening.

“Oh, wow,” I commented, opening a smile after I was able to close my mouth. “You look wonderful, sweetheart.” She looked extremely suspicious of me, although a huge smile took over most of her face.

“I like your tie.” Chuckling, I subconsciously adjusted it before reaching out to take her hand, wanting to close the space between us as soon as possible. The feeling of her warm skin always made me feel comforted, even if I didn’t know that I needed any sort of comfort. 

She seemed to know it, though. She always did. It was why I knew my decision to ask her to become my vice-president was the right one to make, even though our previous history together would make our run a peculiar one, to say the least.

“Good, you were supposed to appreciate it.” She hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t give me any more shows of how it affected her, eyeing the knot I’d just secured before reaching out for it again. Maybe it should make me irritated, but I could only find it adorable, how she insisted on double checking my outfit when I was sure nothing was wrong with it.

“Sam helped you with it?” At the mention of my assistant, I looked up from her cute little face to see that he was standing right behind her, sporting a knowing smile on as he watched our interaction, just patiently waiting for us to decide to leave.

“You know it.” She smiled up at me then, and suddenly there was an unspoken conversation between us that I didn’t want to break. I wasn’t too sure if what she was trying to communicate was the same I wanted to hear, but a guy could hope.

All hope eventually ends up lost when there’s a presidential commitment to attend, though. I should have known it by now.

“We really should be going,” Sam’s voice interrupted us, and still I smiled. She returned it as well, knowing this was our life, this was what we did - at least for the next three years.

“Shall we?” I asked, offering my arm to her, who bowed teasingly before accepting it.

“We shall.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Time would pass and we would eventually step out of power and I still wouldn’t become accustomed to all of this. All of the press, the fake smiles, the insipid conversations. But it was a part of the job. And at least I had James by my side to help me deal with all of it. If there was one thing I admired about him, it was his ability to make every situation exciting.

“I don’t think I actually told you just how beautiful you look tonight,” a familiar voice murmured right by my ear, hands slotting themselves over my hips as one of mine clutched my chest in surprise. I guess I truly had been distracted, staring out at the beautiful garden from the balcony I managed to find so I could get a breath of fresh air.

“You really think so?” I asked, turning around to meet his eyes. He had a cheeky smile on his lips, the one that made him look younger than he was - the one I adored so much.

“Oh, yes. You’re also incredibly distracting. I couldn’t focus on a single conversation people tried to hold with me tonight. But you know what?” I hummed, tilting my head to signal him I wanted to hear what he was going to say. “I find myself enjoying this distraction.”

It was impossible not to giggle - he’d always been a charmer, and that was the reason why I fell so hard for him back in college. If there was a reason we worked well together, however, it was because I knew how to give him a hard time.

“I mean, I would too, if I was stuck in a conversation with Senator Johnsson. Although everything is distracting when you’re near that man.” He tried to control his laughter, he really did, but in the end, it broke free, floating in the air around us and coaxing my own to join his.

By the time he was finally able to breathe again, he was shaking his head, his eyes crinkling in the corners, in that familiar way that I knew meant he was thinking I was too much.

“Well, then. I think I’ve earned myself a small break from all that boredom. Mind if I join you out here?” It was my turn to shake my head with a small smile, stepping to the side to give him more space to breathe.

“Not even a little bit.” It was silent for a second as we stared out to the garden, just reveling in each other’s companies. Despite how frequently we saw each other, it wasn’t usually this quiet, or ever this peaceful. It felt good to just feel enchanted by his proximity again.

But I knew I couldn’t stay there too long, and if he wanted some time to relax, I should probably get back there and distract people so they wouldn’t come looking for him. That was my plan when I took a step back, almost turning around to open the door when I felt his hand clasping me.

Only it wasn’t over my shoulder or arm, which was probably his original goal. Somehow, in the effort to keep me still, he didn’t anticipate in which direction I’d turn, so he ended up with a hand curled around my breast.

“I-I’m sorry,” he was quick to apologize, immediately dropping his arm. “I didn’t intend to.” He looked so utterly embarrassed by the situation, it was almost heartwarming. I felt the overwhelming urge to console him, not even for a second feeling uncomfortable because of what had transpired.

Bucky’s P.O.V.

“James, it’s okay,” she comforted me, her hand over my shoulder. “I’ve felt your hands in far more intimate places, remember?”

How could I ever forget?

The door slammed behind us but we were too busy lost in each other’s lips to care. I almost tripped on a forgotten sneaker as I tried to guide us to the couch, unwilling to worry about one of my roommates walking in on us right then.

It’s not like it would be the first time.

Her hands reached around her own torso to get rid of her shirt and bra, and I was left with my mouth watering at the sight that really should be familiar by now. She still hypnotized me all the same.

“C’mon, James,” she whined, hands tugging on my hair to try to pry me away from her nipple. “No foreplay. I need you now.” I groaned, finally relenting and letting go of her breast to work on unbuckling my belt as my cock twitched at her words.

“Naughty little slut,” I sneered, wrapping her hair around my fist when she positioned herself on her knees for me, holding onto the armrest of the couch. “I’m gonna fill you so good.”

She gasped in satisfaction upon feeling my cock stretch her out, something that had my heart skipping a bit every time. “Only I can make you feel this good, huh?” I asked, pulling on her strands to make sure she’d listen to me, even despite how roughly I was pounding her.

“Tell me,” I ordered, all insecurities and nerves, a young man still in college, finally exploring all of his sexual desires with the woman of his dream. Thankfully, she always gave me just what I needed, not only physically, but emotionally too.

“Yes, yes, Bucky. Only you, baby. God, you fuck me so fucking good.” It always thrilled me to no end to hear her usual perfectly composed self say the nastiest shit when I had my cock inside of her. Only I got to have this side of her, only I knew all of her.

She felt like home, in more ways than one. Whenever I had her, it was the best, sloppiest sex ever, and even years after I’d last touched her, I could still remember it perfectly.

I don’t think I’d ever be able to forget.

“God, you are such a fucking tease,” present me jokingly chastised, burying my hands in my pockets so I wouldn’t reach out and touch her again. The need was always there though, and it was overwhelming each time.

“Too much?” She joked, biting her lower lip as if it wasn’t the sexiest fucking thing ever. It made me groan, more out of desire than frustration at her words, but she’d never know.

“Just short of enough. Maybe it’ll keep my hunger at bay for a little while longer.” I looked up at her from under my eyelashes, trying to gather how she felt about what I was implying, but other than seeing her eyes widen a little bit, she gave me nothing.

She really knew me all too well by now.

“Still,” I continued, trying not to let the situation become awkward. “It seems like you’re not wearing a bra…” I teased, eyebrows raised high as if I was judging her for it. “Care to explain yourself, madam vice president?”

When she threw her head back to laugh, it exposed more of her delicious neck, and I unconsciously licked my lips at the clear skin I saw there. It didn’t use to look that way when we were together. I was very much into marking her all over - immature, possessive, and extremely in love with the woman before me.

“With this dress?” She asked, looking down at herself and making me look down at her neckline automatically. God, she was incredible. “Of course not. Can’t wear panties either.”

And just as I groaned at the new information, she giggled, winking over her shoulder as she reached out for the door. “Why must you tease me like this?” I shouted over the music, but all I could hear in response was her delighted laugh, and honestly, that was more than enough.

[ithehellisbucky]

Waking Up In Vegas

spencer reid x reader

request: prompts 87 (boop), 88 (that's such a bad idea- lets do it), 89 (Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool), 96 (I'm not crying, you are.) by anon

word count: 1.7k

warnings: Mentions of drug addiction, heavy drinking and blackout, that's it.

author's note: I've had this in my inbox for months, and I'm so sorry I didn't finish it sooner. Also, what do you want to see from my blog, it seems like I only post once a week for my fics and that's a no go from me.

~~~

The light was too loud- that's a wonderful thing to think when you remember nothing of the night before. You groaned and sat up, seeing that you were in a large bed with white covers. You scratched your head and looked around, noticing that the bedboard behind you was a large pink heart.

Looking down you realize that you're wearing a sequined red bikini top and a skirt scarf combo with booty shorts underneath. Drunk you does not have good fashion sense.

Before you can notice anything else, you start to feel puke crawling up your throat and you immediately run and vomit all your guts up.

You rinse your mouth out and notice that the blanket mound you left has shifted, and you become wary and pick up a heavy brass candlestick.

And then the lump rolls over, and it's your goddamn coworker.

"Reid?"

He startles and wakes up, staring at you and then glancing down at himself- huh, there was something wrong about that picture, but you couldn't figure out what it was just yet.

"y/n? What are you doing in my hotel room?" He pauses, looks around, then mutters under his breath "this isn't my hotel room."

He looks up at you "Since when are you married?"

"I'm not," You look down at your hand, noticing a giant red ruby adorning your ring finger "I am."

You look down at his hand and notice that he is too, "And so are you."

You and Spencer look around your room, both badly masking paranoia and panic. Both of your eyes stop when you notice a picture frame in the corner- a wedding certificate.

"Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool. This is fine, no big deal, just a marriage certificate," You move over and pick it up "with both of our names on it."

"Okay, this is okay, this is fine," Spencer says, sitting back down on the bed stunned.

"So, we're married, which is a thing that happened, last night, that you definitely remember." You say, sitting down next to your newly revealed husband.

"I don't remember."

"How do you not remember? You have super memory powers!"

"This is an excellent first fight to have as a married couple, of course, you blame me." He says, standing up and shrugging.

You meet his stance "Of course I blame you! You're the smart one!"

"Oh, well Agent, I wasn't aware that you had an IQ of 25!" He pauses "25 is the number associated by Henry H. Goodard to be an idiot, it's actually-"

"I know!" You exclaim, seething with half-hearted rage.

"You know, your the one who got an addict drunk!"

"Your vice isn't alcohol! If I drugged you I'd be a monster! You ordered that first bloody mary all by yourself, and those shots we did were totally consensual!!!"

He looked up at you "you remember that?"

You think, and notice memories that you didn't know were there, "um, yeah, bits and pieces."

From the expression he makes, he looks to be remembered more too. You and your new husband sit down and let it all hit you.

~~~

"4 tequila shots please." You wave down the bartender.

You're already buzzed, but you and Spencer were just getting warmed up. Morgan and Garcia left hours ago to go to a fancy restaurant, Rossi was planted firmly at the poker table, Hotch was nowhere to be seen, JJ had gone home to be with Henry, and Emily was at a "sin to win" night at some casino that you already knew too much about just by hearing the name.

So that leaves you and Spencer at the bar in the only casino in town he wasn't banned from.

At first, you were concerned about him drinking, but once he reassured that alcohol isn't his way of self-medicating, you were okay. Besides, if you saw any red flags, you would throw his ass in rehab faster than you can say 'gin'.

So, you were 5 drinks in and having the time of your lives, showing off battle scars and laughing. God, his eyes were pretty.

"Your eyes are so pretty!" You giggled "like soooooo pretty, woooooooow."

He laughed and looked back at you "your skin is pretty, like in a non-serial killer way, it's really pretty."

"Thank you, just don't kill me for it."

"I just called no murder!" He whined "besides, how am I sure you won't kill me and scoop my eyes out?"

"Because that's gross." You said, rolling your eyes.

"And stealing your skin isn't?"

"You can' have my skin!" You say, mock running away.

He laughs, and looks directly into your eyes, and smiles, wow, he was pretty. Morgan was right.

"Hey, do you wanna get out of here?" Spencer asks you.

"Yeah, let's get ice cream!" You grab his hand, and it feels natural through your foggy brain.

After stumbling through the ice cream parlor, full of people who were trying to pretend like they weren't. Spencer got butter pecan, and you got sherbert and chocolate.

You stumbled out of the store, giggling to yourself and Spencer.

God, you loved him. So you told him.

"I love you." He stopped in his tracks, and you almost tripped on a bicycle rack.

"Really?" He whispers.

All of the giggles are gone.

"I love you."

The ice cream is long forgotten, his on the ground, and half of yours on your clothes and half next to his on the ground. All that's left is your faces inching closer to each other.

When your lips meet it feels like firecrackers going off inside your head.

His mouth is soft, gently contrasting with your soft lips. His tongue sneaks into your mouth, your smile around his.

"Let's get married." He pulls apart from you, out of breath.

You stay silent for a moment, before looking up and directly into his chocolate brown eyes "That is such a bad idea-"

He diverts his eyes and scratches the back of his skull "Um, yeah, that's okay, let's-"

"Let's do it."

He looks back at you, and you grab his body and kiss him.

~~~

Sometimes people can be happy, you realize as an elderly woman ties a sash around your waist.

You have to be honest, you never thought this was gonna be how you were gonna get married. Hell, you weren't sure if you were gonna get married at all. But certainly not like this. Certainly not at 1 am to your coworker 7 drinks in at a cheap roadside attraction.

Definitely not like this.

But something about this weirdness felt like the only way anything ever would've made any sense.

There was something about the outfit you were wearing that was perfect, a bright red bra covered in sequins underneath a top with buttons and poofy sleeves that showed off a lot of your chest, a wrap-around cheap white silk skirt with jeans shorts underneath. And of course purple open-toed boots. Perfect.

Marrying Spencer Reid is like a fever dream. A perfect man with perfect hair and perfect eyes. So of course you were giggling like crazy while they put the cheap crown with pink tulle serving as a veil on your head.

Your witnesses were an elderly couple, of course, you wanted to have your best friends there, but knowing them they'd try to talk you out, and believe me, there was no way you wanted out of it.

"Now's time dear," the woman exclaims, gently patting you on the shoulder and leading you out of the fitting room and towards the chapel.

The owner of the business hooks his arm around yours and leads you into the chapel, church bells from an iPod attached to a speaker ringing out into the air.

Spencer turns around the air visibly leaves his lungs when you make eye contact. The chapel you two had chosen in this drunken haze was costume-themed, and he was wearing an ancient Rome costume that fit the time where his favorite philosopher, so even though no one else noticed, you could tell he was dressed as Gaius.

His hair had been attempted to slick back, but little curls were popping up all over the place instead. He was wringing his hands tightly and bouncing his knee, god you couldn't wait to marry him.

The elderly man who had led you to the alter places you next to Spencer, you couldn't focus on anything but your soon-to-be-husband.

Spencer takes his hands and gently pulls your veil up from around your face, and a tear trickles out of his eyes as he sees you. You smile and notice his nerves, try to calm the love of your life down "boop", you gently tap his nose and he smiles in comfort.

The officiant drones on and on about love but you can't hear him, all you can focus on is his love-filled eyes.

"Do you take Spencer Reid to be your husband?"

Your eyes snap out of their daze and you say with the most certainty than you have ever said anything: "I do."

"And do you take (y/n) (y/l/n) to be your life partner for as long as you may live?"

"I do," And you feel more wanted than you ever have in your life, he wants you, Spencer wants you.

~~~

You and Spencer sit on your bed in stunned silence, neither believing that last night had really happened. You look over at your apparent husband and notice tears streaming down his face.

"You're crying." You say, your voice coming out as a chocked whisper.

"I'm not crying, you are." You look down and notice that your shirt is soaked in tears.

"Oh." You take a deep breath and look into his eyes. "So, what do you want to do?"

"Get an annulment?" He doesn't look completely happy about his answer and stares into your eyes for reassurance.

You take a deep breath and stare off into the distance, out into a world that would be so much better if you were married to Spencer Reid. "I don't want that."

You look back at him to meet his eyes, "Me neither."

"I love you, a lot, and I want to be married to you." Spencer smiles, and you feel wanted and safe and loved.

Instead of saying it back, he kissed you with a passion that was way more descriptive than simple words. Spencer is your husband and you love him, he loves you, and you are finally wanted.

~~

My Masterlist

Requests are open!

~Taglists are open~

Permanent Tags: @natasha-danvers​

Marvel:

Criminal Minds:

[pastelwitchling]

A Study of the Frustrations of Roswell New Mexico.

I feel like I used to write out these essay posts all the time, and then I just gave up at some point. But today, instead of working on my novel like I should probably be doing, I’ve decided to do a deeper dive into why I feel like Roswell New Mexico has done, in my opinion, some irreparable damage with malex.

Hello. I’m Rin. Pour yourself a cup of tea, grab a snack, and sit back. This is going to be a long one.

For those who already know this about me and those who don’t, I’m an aspiring author. My favorite genres are fantasy, romance, historical, and sci-fi. Roswell New Mexico completes some of those criteria. At first glance, it seems like it’s going to be one hell of a fun ride, with a cosmic relationship featuring an angry cowboy that is impossible to get close to unless you’re Alex Manes.

I think a lot of the issues people have with this show come back to personal preference. I, for instance, love the Bad Guy to Everybody But One Person trope. It’s swoony, it’s sexy, it’s romantic. Michael Guerin seemed to fit the bill perfectly for a while there... until he didn’t. And I never realized what my problem with it really was until I read a romance novel which shall remain unnamed.

In this romance novel which I was having a lot of fun with, the male love interest claims to have fallen in love with the protagonist. It’s cute because he’s put into a position where he has to choose a wife, but he only wants this one woman. I thought this was a very fun, very swoony idea. He could be himself around her in a way he couldn’t with other people. Then the second book came, and one of the most heartbreaking things happens; the male love interest starts to have feelings for another woman.

Listen. For me, when the male love interest starts to have feelings for somebody else, no matter how small the feelings, after he’s already met his endgame half - it completely kills the romance. I didn’t understand why this particular storyline kept pissing me off until I connected it back to Roswell New Mexico. You’ve done the worst for the romance, RNM writers. (Not that I think you’ll ever see this.) You’ve made malex into a flimsy and frail thing.

Michael had chosen someone else when things with Alex got too hard. This completely killed the romance for me for a while because it only weakened malex. It showed that if Alex got scared again, or things got too hard, Michael would run off to someone else. It showed that Alex wasn’t worth fighting for. Now, I don’t like putting my own personal life into it, but I am a person who feels like I’m barely tolerated in whatever room I’m in. Like if I don’t serve a purpose, then I’m a burden. If I don’t give people more and more of myself, then they’re not going to see any good or point in me. (Yeah yeah, boohoo, moving on.)

This is what I see in Alex. The reason I fell in love with Alex in the first place was because he was clearly someone with a lot of anxiety and depression, but who has to work at pushing that aside all the time. His strength doesn’t come from nowhere, he has to actively and constantly summon it. And then, wouldn’t you know it, the second he doesn’t want to be strong, the second he lets his fears show, he’s discarded.

It would’ve been different if Michael had kept seeking Alex out, had fought for him, and every time Alex refused his advances. But that wasn’t what happened. Michael kept expecting Alex to come forward, to reach out, to give him an opening. If Alex didn’t, Michael didn’t even try. And I get it, everyone has their own trauma, everyone deals with it in their own way, but Alex considered what his actions might’ve done to Michael. He helped him get with his best friend. Had Michael ever given him the same courtesy, and not for his own sake?

Do not say Forrest. He did that because he wasn’t ready, not because he didn’t think he deserved Alex and wanted him with someone who did.

Look, I get that they’re together now and things are different, and that’s all I could hope for. But I woke up today with this thought in my head and suddenly everything makes sense. They did some hard damage to malex, and now, who could blame anybody for having fears and doubts about their stability in season 4? I get that shows need to have drama and the drama is always fun - when done correctly. When the right kind of drama is focused on.

I don’t know what to expect from season 4, but I know that writing fics about them only choosing each other can be hard sometimes, and I blame CAM and anyone who said that particular storyline was a good idea because it was handled so poorly.

Make no mistake. Roswell New Mexico changed my life. I met my best friend because of it. Tyler and Michael have inspired me in ways I couldn’t begin to express. I’m so thankful I have Alex Manes in my life, I’m so thankful I have malex, but to be honest, in moments like this, as I let out some of my frustrations with the show, a small part of me can’t help but think that had I known about M*ria, had I known about certain episodes, I might have just ignored every attraction I had to the brilliant airman in 1x09 and the malex scenes of that season, and spared myself the headache and excruciating heartbreak that comes not because it’s supposed to, but because of such a poorly-written story.

[thran-duils]

My Perfect Pet

Title: My Perfect Pet Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Boss Tony Stark. Reader disobeys Mr. Stark’s order to work in his office and learns her lesson for disobeying when he tells her to do something. Words: 2,303 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Dom/sub, fingering, shameless smut, boss/employee relationship, punishment, office sex Author’s Note: I had a dream, alright? I got distracted from the other fics because of it.

Masterpost (mobile)

You walked into one of the old filing rooms where one of the old assistants was already working to scan old documents in. A whole archive had been discovered recently and they needed all of the papers uploaded onto the Stark database.

Aeisha looked up when you walked in and cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I thought Abby was going to be down here with me.”

“She really wanted to be around and in Mr. Stark’s office.”

When you had arrived this morning, the head security told you where you were supposed to be. Mr. Stark gave orders at the beginning of the day where all of you were supposed to be and he had wanted you assisting him today. But Abby had complained to you, pouting. You figured it was not a big deal and told her you would take her job down in the filing room instead. She had been ecstatic.

The other girl snorted and said, “Of course she does. She’s been trying to get him to fuck her for months.”

You stammered, “W-what?”

“He has his favorites. She wants to be one of them.” She held up her phone, the newest version, and smirked, “He gives good gifts to keep us away from HR. Not that I would ever consider that.”

“You… have sex with him?”

Aeisha shrugged, “When he wants. It’s not often. In between the ladies at his parties and some other girls in the building, there’s time in between.” She saw the look on your face and gave a hearty laugh. “He’s good in bed. Don’t worry. When I said I wouldn’t consider going to HR, I mean it. That man knows how to work my pussy.”

‘That’s not what I’m worried about,” you muttered, opening one of the boxes. ‘I didn’t know I was gonna have to potentially fuck my boss if he ever gets a wild hair. Wasn’t in the job description. Sure, he’s extremely attractive – sexy – but, Jesus. That’s asking for issues if you ever wanna be in a relationship with someone and he’s still expecting it. Maybe I should be thanking Abby for taking his office today.”

Aeisha closed the scanner and shot you a curious look. “Wait… did you clear that switch with him?”

You shook your head and she rose her eyebrows, looking concerned.

“What?”’ you asked worriedly. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal. We are both gonna do the same thing no matter where we are at.”

“He wanted to see you in there, Y/N. He’s very specific about his instructions.”

Your stomach did a flip flop and you asked worriedly, “Am I going to get in trouble?”

Aeisha shrugged, “Who knows? If he hasn’t sent Abby back down here in the next twenty minutes, maybe it’ll just slide.”

You did not want to lose this job; it was well paying, especially for NYC.

“I guess I’ll just… go up there if she gets put back down here,” you said slowly, thumbing through the files.

You picked some of the papers up and asked Aeisha where she was filing the paperwork before going to your own scanner. You kept tensing whenever you heard someone walk by, thinking it was Abby coming down to fetch you and make you go upstairs where Mr. Stark wanted to see you. It was customary for you to wear pencil line skirts and low-cut shirts with heels, something that had been encouraged by the hiring manager. And you learned quickly it was just the norm with all of the assistants. Thankfully, you had already had a good enough collection started with going out wear that was easily masked as office wear. Such as the bodycon dress you were wearing today, the long zipper up the back that you had had to have your roommate help you with. But now you wondered if maybe you should cut back on it a little bit, knowing what you did now.

Shaking your head, you pushed the thoughts of your mind, focusing on your work.

<><><>

It was almost 9:00pm when you were walking back from the filing room. You told your immediate supervisor that you would take a few more hours today to be able to get off early tomorrow for your appointment tomorrow afternoon a few weeks ago.

You stopped though outside Mr. Stark’s office, hearing noises coming from within. You furrowed your brow confused considering how late it was. You put your hand on the door, your ear coming closer. Someone yelped loudly inside and you threw the door open in alarm, thinking someone was getting hurt.

Upon seeing Mr. Stark being straddled by a naked woman and another kissing him beside them on the couch, you almost vomited in embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. I thought—goodnight!” you stammered, closing the door clumsily and rushing off.

<><><>

You were not surprised in the slightest when you arrived the next morning that Mr. Stark wanted you in his office. Reluctantly, you walked to the door and knocked. He called from inside and you took a deep breath, your heart hammering. All you could see was them on the couch last night and feel your mortification that had kept you up half the night.

He was working off to the side of his desk with a hologram table, his back to you. He was wearing a three-piece suit as usual, sans the jacket, all black.

You did not know what to say – if you should say anything too – so you just stood there awkwardly until he sensed the awkwardness too and turned around. You did not miss the slight smirk that graced his lips at the sight of you.

“Mhm, Y/N. Good morning,” he greeted you, closing the hologram and turning around to stride back to his desk.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark,” you managed to say.

He sat on the edge of the desk, running his eyes over you. You had chosen a mid-thigh dress, still showing leg but the top was long sleeved, no cleavage.

You blurted becoming uncomfortable with the silence, “I really am sorry.”

“For?” he questioned.

That caught you off guard and you stammered, “U-uh. Last night?”

“Oh, that,” Tony chuckled. “I didn’t know anyone was still on the floor. Quite a surprise to see you. Did throw the vibe off a bit, took me out of my element, really.” He cleared his throat and said, “As a matter of fact, thank you for apologizing because the sex really wasn’t as great as it was going to be if I hadn’t of seen you. Because it just reminded me of earlier in the day when I was expecting to see you when I came in the morning and I was severely annoyed when it wasn’t you. So, I was just a little irked during the whole threesome.”

He snickered seeing you at loss for words. “Well, I figure you can make it up to me. We can break in the couch. Just you and me.”

A strangled noise left your throat. “What?”

“Did I stammer? You disobeyed what I asked yesterday. I was gonna let it slide and give you a chance to make it right next time – aka this morning when I requested you again to be in here. I like my assistants in the building to follow directions specifically how I ask them. But then, you came in and interrupted when I was about to plow two of the hottest models on the market right now and threw off my vibe.”

That sounded so ridiculous, you said before you could stop yourself, “You still had sex with them.”

His eyes crinkled with his dangerous smile. “That’s cheeky. You are very determined to get me even more riled up, aren’t you? I didn’t mark you as bratty. Everyone’s got their surprises though...”

He stood up from the desk and you fought to stand your ground, your hands still folded in front of you. His eyes were searching hungrily, eyeing you up like a piece of meat.

“You’re definitely not a top rider like Vivian or Aeisha. They love sitting in my lap… reverse cowgirl…” Heat came to your cheeks as he ran his eyes over you again, lingering on your legs. A wicked smirk came to his face as he met your gaze again. “No. That’s not you. Not at all. You’re a perfect candidate for training.”

Training…?

“In fact, we can have your first lesson now. Lock the door.”

“Mr. Stark—”

He sat on the couch and said, “Do you remember me just saying that I like my assistants to listen? And follow directions just as they’re told? This is your chance to do that. So, impress me, sweetheart. Or leave the building and don’t come back. I’ll have someone mail your check or direct deposit. Whatever the hell you have set up.”

You stared at him in bewilderment, and he was staring back, a hard look in his eyes. He was not messing around. Swallowing sharply, you turned on your heel and went to the door, sliding the lock into place. You turned around, your heart thumping.

“Take your dress off. Put this blindfold on,” he ordered, reaching for the piece of cloth on the table. You had failed to notice it sitting there before; he had already had this on his mind before you had come in apparently. “And get over my knee.”

Mortified, you took a step back towards the door and his eyes flashed at the movement.

“What’s it gonna be, sweetheart?”

You had a choice, really you did. You could find other work, but you did not want to. Sucking down a deep breath, you walked over towards him. He reached forward again and grabbed a small remote, clicking it. The large TV turned on at the end of the office and he turned on a random show, turning the volume up.

Your dress fell to your ankles and you stepped out of it. There was a fire sparked seeing the way he was looking at you, drinking you in. But it made you extremely nervous too; what if this went sideways and you lost the job anyway?

The blindfold was waiting on his thigh and you reached for it, putting it on and laid across his lap. You could feel his length through his dress pants, causing heat to come to your core already as well. You squirmed with the anticipation.

He smacked your ass hard and you gasped loudly with the sting. His hand caressed at your ass, squeezing. “Look at that nice jiggle you had just there. You’re gonna tell me you’re sorry when this is all done and take this like an obedient girl. Right?”

“Right.”

“’Right, sir’,” Tony corrected you.

“Right, sir,” you squeaked in repeat back to him.

He hummed in approval before he smacked you again, harder this time. He yanked your underwear down and ordered you to kick them off. He helped getting them around your heels and you felt him toss them. His hand was back on your ass, squeezing and admiring. Another smack landed and then another, drawing a low groan from you.

Tony’s fingers delved past your wet folds, running up and down your sex. A finger slipped in as his thumb massaged your clit, causing you to pant in need.

“Look at you, you little wanton harlot,” Tony husked, adding another finger.

He pulled his hand away and laid another hard smack across your cheeks, leaving wetness from you.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered.

You did what he told you and you squealed when he slapped your pussy, instinctively clenching and driving your hips forward.

“Keep them open!”

Hesitantly, you did what he said, and you cried out softly when he smacked your pussy again, repeatedly. The contact was reverberating, stimulating. He was driving you insane, loving the contact on your clit from each hit. You heard him spit and his other hand came to rub at your tight ring, wet from his spit, while the other found your nub again, circling faster now. He was working you too well, it was too much pressure. You did not want to come all over him, and you clenched again, trying to stop him from touching you.

He laid a rough smack across your ass and growled, “I told you to keep your legs open!”

Whimpering, you opened your legs again to him and he praised, “Good girl. Now, are you, sorry, pet?” You nodded and he squeezed at your nub causing you to whine sharply. “Tell me!”

“I’m sorry, sir!”

“Mhm, you’re a fast learner. Such a good girl. But what are you sorry for?” he asked, his fingers picking up speed.

“Not listening to you! For interrupting you!” you panted, gripping at the couch fabric.

“Yeah, that was really naughty of you,” Tony agreed, his knuckles brushing your sex as he hit your g spot. “Very naughty.” Your breath was quick and short, and he cooed, “Sweetheart, do you need to come?”

“Yes, sir! Please!” you begged, embarrassed simultaneously how easily you had come unraveled. How easy it was for you to fall into this role.

Tony hit your spot again and you moaned pathetically. “You can let go. Come for me.”

You cried out, shaking, coming undone around his fingers. His other hand came to your throat, holding tight as he continued to stroke you, slower now as you shook with your release. He squeezed in slightly and that only added a cherry on top to your orgasm.

Empty of him, you heard him salaciously sucking on his fingers, his other hand still flexing gently on your throat, and he hummed in approval again. “I think with some more lessons, you can shape up to my perfect pet.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

[queer-and-dear-books]

Title: Fifteen Hundred Miles from the Sun

Author: Jonny Garza Villa

Genre: YA Fiction | Romance | Friendship | LGBTQ+

Content Warnings: Child Abuse | Homophobia | Bullying | Underaged Drinking

Overall Rating: 10/10

Personal Opinion: One of my favorite books of all time. Julian wants to escape his narrow-minded small town to go to a place that would welcome him and his rainbow glory. He meets Mat (who is from Southern California) online and they instantly hit it off. Before long, they’re having late-night conversations, sending each other gifts, and calling each other adorable pet names. If you want to fall in love with a couple, look no further than Jules and Mat in this book!

Do I Own This Book? Yes! This is actually my most favorite book currently so I bought a copy of my own almost immediately after I read it.

Couple Classification: Julian Luna X Mat Troi Pham = Jock/Nerd X Nerd/Prep (?)

Spoilers Below For My Likes & Dislikes:

Likes:

- AN ASIAN LOVE INTEREST who is GAY and crushed on FIRST! Mat Pham is Viet and he’s gay and he is happily in love with Julian Luna. Like the two of them are literally so cute together! They’re interracial, they call each other “Sunshine” (because “Mat Troi” means “sun”) and “Moonlight” (because “Luna” means “moon”) and god, I just want them to be happy for eternity! Like they cheer each other up when they’re down. They have great chemistry! It’s clear that they love each other in the gifts they exchange and the words they say, it kills me how cute they are! Plus, all of Mat’s siblings are queer too. His brother is bi and is married to a Filipino man and his sister is a lesbian. They said “the bloodline ends with us” and I find that hilarious and amazing. Especially because their parents are so accepting and loving of all three of their queer kids.

- Yo, the friendships are so good too! Jordan, Itzel, and Lou are unapologetically Julian’s friends even after he’s accidentally outed, it’s crazy. They ride or die for him. Rolie too. He admits to feeling awkward in the beginning and worrying that their friendship will end but once he saw Julian harassed, he did not hesitate to throw down for his friend. It makes sense given his machismo upbringing too. But like Julian said, he turned out well. Lou is also pansexual and Jordan’s been Julian’s protector since day 1. Plus, they all already suspected that Julian was gay but they respected him and his choice to come out whenever. No pressure. And that is a sign of a beautiful bond. Such an amazing chosen family.

- Finally! A book where being hesitant to come out makes so much sense! Julian lives in the deep south and he grew up with a homophobic, physically abusive father who would beat him for doing any act that could be perceived as queer. It’s no wonder Julian was scared out of his mind and unable to come out and just be himself. So when he gained the courage to stand up to his dad when the bastard had the audacity to show up at Xochi’s house, I cheered internally. So hard. And Julian stood up to his queerphobic teammates in the end too. That was fucking amazing. He proved he was a better player and shut them up too. Hell fucking yeah!

- Xochi and Guelo deserve an award for best family ever. It’s hard to cut out the father but the way they give their all for Jules is awe-inspiring. Xo was there for him after he’d gotten disowned and she became his legal guardian and did all she could to make sure he got the help he needed (financial aid, counseling, a house to live in). And Guelo being genuinely excited to meet Mat was just so cute! I’m glad they clarified that he’s the maternal grandpa because otherwise, dad would not make any sense to me. But ugh, the two of them in Jules’s corner proved to be one of the best parts of this book! They care so much about him and are so protective and I adore them.

- I usually get sick and tired of seeing characters get anxious and depressed. Probably because it’s like looking in a mirror, it hits way too close to home. But Julian’s anxiety makes sense. Given his upbringing and the abuse he endured from his father, it makes sense why he entered fight/flight/freeze mode when something happens. And then there was all the anxiety surrounding college too. He didn’t get into his dream school UCLA or his backup USC, but he got into Loyola Marymount which is a private college and expensive. It’s in LA and that meant he could be in the city he dreamed of and be with Mat too. But UT was offering him a full ride and his dad gave him an ultimatum concerning going there, a top school. Julian’s fears make sense. And I love that Mat never pressured him to go to California if UT was a more sensible option. Also, the moment that Ram saw Julian struggling and having been kicked out because he’s gay, the financial advisor was ready to do whatever he could to get Julian in and I loved that. That is a good man who was likely sympathetic to Julian’s plight as, probably, a fellow queer.

- The comedy in this book is so on point! my favorite joke by far though, is the four Cs for good gay sex that Ruben came up with: “Consent. Cleanliness. Communication. Condoms.” And when he came up with new Cs consisting of mostly gay icons (”CHER. CELINE. CHRISSY. CHRIST.”) when Xochi almost caught him saying it to their brothers killed me. And ugh, all the moments when Julian was chilling with his friends and joking around. Jordan’s bi-curious jokes were honestly a hit for me.

Dislikes:

- Not much to complain about in all honesty? Like, after Late To The Party, this book knew how to use social media. By which I do mean that the kids knew how to use it. For music, for stanning celebrities, for accidentally and drunkenly outing yourself. Maybe social media was used too much but it’s realistic. It’s real. Maybe my biggest complaint is that Itzel was initially unsupportive of Jules dating someone he met online. Lots of people do it. I get that she was protective of him (considering all he’s gone through) but he didn’t deserve to be yelled at. He was happy and she momentarily ruined it for him. And they even stopped talking for a bit. But to me, that wasn’t really fair of her because it’s modern day. Almost no one starts dating people they haven’t met online first.

- I don’t mind the interspersed Spanish sprinkled throughout the book but I do somewhat wish there was maybe a dictionary at the end of the book because, while most of it can be translated with Google, there was also a lot of slang that was untranslatable. Again, not really an issue. It’s not the author’s fault I don’t know Spanish.

- Fuck Julian’s dad. That’s all I’ll say about him.

- Where did the prankster get a dildo from? No seriously, those things are fucking expensive. Why did some random kid decide to get one just to torment the one out gay kid in school? 

- Also, what’s Piña’s deal, anyway? He gives off major bi vibes but barely aware of it because of compulsory heterosexuality. Well, hopefully he figures himself out in college when he experiments. I have no doubt he would.

- The last two aren’t complaints by the way, just questions that don’t really need answers, I’m just curious.

[giowritess]

minefields [tommy shelby]

MASTERLIST. | PEAKY BLINDERS.

❝ request: "Can you do fluff prompt 38. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen for Thomas Shelby at his wedding to the reader? Thank you!"

❝ pairing: Thomas Shelby x fem!reader

❝ plot: an aesthetical-y vision of how Tommy and reader got to where they are now.

❝ warnings: cursing, alcohol, age gap, mentions of war and Grace's death

❝ word-count: 837

❝ author’s note: hey guys! sorry to the anon who requested it that i took almost a year to write it lol. this is really short, i didn't put much thought into it since i wrote it while travelling. well, i reallyyyyy enjoyed this and, if you enjoy it too, i might expand it into a mini-series, following tommy and reader as they fall in love and eventually get married. so please share with me your thoughts!!! enjoy

this was beta'd by my darling ari — @amysteryspot. thank you and i love you so much! — if you're in search of a beta, you can make an order for free here at my blog: elysium editions, read the fixed post and learn how!

this was slighty inspired by the song "minefields" my faouzia and john legend.

i got inspired by @everyhowlmarksthedead's design of her posts, so credits to her <3

Happiness was thick in the air.

Everything was so perfect and in its righteous places. The blossoming flowers across the field, the soft spring breeze, the clear blue sky without a single cloud in sight. The sun was shining proudly, warming everyone up with its rays.

They couldn't have chosen a better day.

For once in Thomas's life, everything was working out.

Ever since France, he felt as if there was a dark cloud on his head and his alone. Making everything go wrong in the worst possible way. Murphy's law was always present in his life with the meaning that everything that could go wrong would go wrong.

It was no different with Grace. Tommy took so long to finally open up, to let her love seep in, so long to finally allow himself to open his heart and feel something. How good it felt to know there was someone out there who loved him despite everything.

But his small glimpse of happiness could only last for so long, and everything that could go wrong went wrong.

Tommy was trapped inside her memory. Trapped inside his anger and resentment for everything that happened that day, and the fact that he couldn't go back in time and save her. Offer his life instead of hers.

He took a vow then—Tommy wasn't risking his heart again, loving someone only to lose them all over again. It wasn't worth it because it would always end like this. He was way too old for this shit, anyway.

And then you came along, looking like nothing he'd ever seen before with your sweet floral dresses, your sharp sense of humor, and your soft giggle. You never looked at him as if he was someone bad, instead, you looked at him like the human being he was. You saw through every façade he put on, and that scared the hell out of him.

Tommy still remembered the day you met. You were lost in the betting shop, looking for Michael, standing out in your bright yellow dress. The two of you locked eyes but didn't speak. Surprisingly, you didn't look a slight bit intimidated by him—you simply didn't care. When Michael finally showed up, Tommy envied the way you hugged him.

Turned out you were an old childhood friend of his, from his life as Henry. Coincidentally or not, you were excellent with numbers as well. Better than anyone else at the betting shop, so you started sticking around more and more. Tommy always kept his distance, but also noticed the way you looked at him. Something he couldn't quite figure out glinting in your eyes:. Curiosity? Hate? Attraction?

Whenever you two had to talk, it was always as professional as ever. Thomas always had to remind himself you were sixteen years younger. You didn't deserve an old bastard like him, someone who was broken in so many ways. You deserved someone your age, someone who could give you a good, safe life he knew he couldn't. So he tried his best to look at you as just another secretary that would soon go away. But then your sweet smiles started to show up. The soft, unintentional touches that were actually full of intention from both sides. Then, he went from Mr. Shelby to Tommy in the blink of an eye, and from then on, he knew that he could try, but he would never get his heart back from you—it was entirely yours, already.

The first time you kissed was on a rainy night in his office. He couldn't sleep, so he decided to keep working with his whisky by his side and the warmth of the fireplace, hearing the lovely sounds of the raging storm outside. The sound of the lock startled him, making Tommy instantly reach for his gun.

Instead of meeting an enemy, he found you, drenched from the rain and freezing.

You were walking home from a drink with your friends when the rain surprised you. Since you were always more punctual than him, you had the key to his office, and there you found your refuge. You didn't expect to meet him, though.

Tommy made you sit by the fireplace and take off your drenched clothes, giving you his coat and handing you a glass of whisky. You caught him by surprise when you asked him to sit with you, but he surprised you more when he complied. And he surprised you, even more, when he finally kissed you.

That led to where you were now—about to get married, in front of your families in a simple ceremony on the field of flowers, your favorite place.

You caught his eye, admiring you, and smiled.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Tommy said before finally sliding the ring on your finger.

He knew this could go wrong at any moment, but you were worth the risk. He would fight for you, even if he had to cross minefields. You were his, and he was yours.

author’s note: remember to tell me what u think about turning it into a mini series!

[number-1-kuaidul-fanboy]

Why I Can’t Read the Harry Potter Series the Same Way Anymore

 (I know this is different from the stuff I usually post on this blog but… frankly I wrote three pages to vent about this and I wanted to publish it somewhere so just bear with me.)

So, I know what this looks like. However, this is not because of the… real life misgivings of J.K. Rowling. As a trans person myself, yes, she is transphobic. Also, she lies about what her books actually contain to seem more progressive than she actually is, like claiming Hermione was always black when she was described and pictured as white in the books and then played by Emma Watson in the movies that Rowling was personally involved with the production of. But that’s not what I’m here to argue because frankly, that’s an old argument and while it does taint my view of the author, it’s not what taints my view of the books.

I should preface this with this: I don’t hate Harry Potter. I read all the books and watched all the movies. I was an active fan of the series for a long time and I still enjoy the world and the characters. Heck, I still sort my friends and characters into Hogwarts houses for the fun of it. However, overtime, some of my issues with this series have started to weigh on my mind more and more as I’ve gotten older. I mentioned the Hogwarts Houses, which while it’s fun to sort characters outside of Harry Potter into these houses, the way they’re handled in the series is lazy at best and problematic at worst. First off, nearly every good character is in Gryffindor, while Slytherin is almost entirely made up of villains. Gryffindor is the designated good house where all the “brave” people go when barely anyone there actually embodies the house traits, besides Neville, Hermione, and maybe Harry. If you wanted a variety of personalities in one place, maybe you shouldn’t have made your sorting system based on personality!

In fact, here’s a whole list of characters who should not be in Gryffindor:

-Ron Weasley (Hufflepuff. He’s super loyal to the point where him leaving his friends in the final book felt out of character)

-Fred and George Weasley (Slytherin, they are some of the most ambitious, cunning characters in the whole series. Opening a joke shop IS an ambition and is a great example of a non-evil ambition.)

-Ginny Weasley (Also ambitious with her Quidditch to the point of spending years sneaking out to practice on a broom before she attended Hogwarts.)

-Percy Weasley (Ambition is his whole thing. He’s even a darker side of ambition. Him coming back to his family would be more meaningful if he were a Slytherin!)

-Dumbledore (Ravenclaw or Slytherin. He manipulated the ever-loving hell out of Harry, which I’ll get to, and is known as clever, wise, and a little eccentric. Either house could’ve been a better fit for him than Gryffindor.)

-Hagrid (Either Hufflepuff or Slytherin. Hufflepuff seems like the best fit for his current personality but Slytherin makes the most sense considering his backstory and history with Tom Riddle. The SuperCarlinBrothers made a really good video explaining this called “What House Was Hagrid in.” Go watch that.)

Leading into my next issue with the Hogwarts Houses, I have a serious issue with how Slytherin house is represented.

This has been said multiple times but the fact that every single Slytherin in the series is either evil (Voldemort, Bellatrix), assholes (Draco, Snape), morally gray (Slughorn, Regulus Black), or not in the core seven books (Albus Potter, Scorpious Malfoy, and Merlin), is extremely problematic. It makes the line between good and evil incredibly obvious and clear cut, with hardly any effort to blur those lines. The closest thing we got, especially in the author’s eyes, was Snape, who was not redeemed. He just wasn’t. He was a bully to his students, emotionally and physically, to the point where Neville’s biggest fear was him, and yet it’s suddenly all okay because he was in love with Harry’s deceased mother? That’s not how this works. His actions are not suddenly all okay because of that and frankly, he didn’t do enough to warrant saying he redeemed himself, besides indirectly letting Harry know that he needed to die to defeat Voldemort through the memories in the Pensieve, which just isn’t enough. Draco had more of a redemption and frankly proved he had good in him, yet we never got a true redemption from him because apparently all Slytherins are evil. Sure, there is a total of… one evil Gryffindor: Peter Pettigrew, who is pretty awful, but is there a single fully good Slytherin? No, they’re all either assholes, dabbled with evil, or are full on evil. Not only is it basic black and white morality, but it’s also downright harmful. The kids are sorted into their houses by their personalities and values. Some of the Slytherin traits are ambition, cunning, cleverness, resourcefulness, and leadership qualities, all pretty positive traits. The thing that divides these houses are their traits and values, so this is sending a message that traits such as “ambition,” “cleverness,” or “resourcefulness” are bad or evil, when they’re not. This is especially problematic when you remember that there is an official Wizarding World quiz that sorts you into a Hogwarts house based on your personality and likes and one of the houses you can get is this designated evil house. So if kids take this quiz and get Slytherin, they’re going to be disappointed and possibly think they’re evil. I’m especially annoyed at “ambition” ALWAYS being represented as a negative trait. That’s not just a Harry Potter problem but it still bothers me. Having aspirations and the guts to pursue them is not a bad thing, having evil aspirations is a bad thing. Ambition is a purely neutral trait, it can be positive or negative depending on what you’re pursuing yet it’s only ever shown as a “villain” trait.

(Look at this wonderful tweet I found while looking for images for this by the way:)

(Way to be even more blatant that you hate Slytherins and also have a poor understanding of racial issues. Speaking of which...)

This series tries to tackle racism… and it didn’t do it well. At all. It didn’t even tackle racism itself, it used elements of its magical world as an allegory for racism and these allegories just don’t work. The two that are most well-known are the wizard/muggle tension and the house elves as a whole. The pureblood purists are essentially an allegory for white supremacists, which has some troubling implications since wizards are literally genetically superior to muggles. Even if it’s not an objective fact, the books do imply that wizards are better than muggles from the story alone so this racial allegory doesn’t work when you’re saying one side is more powerful or better! The house elves are even worse. Their entire species is enslaved to these “genetically superior wizards.” In fact, if I remember correctly, house elves are enslaved mostly by rich pureblood families like the Malfoys and the Crouch’s, similar to slavery in the real world. But apparently, the house elves are happy to be enslaved (besides Dobby, who died) and were insulted when Hermione tried to free them. Winky in particular was horrified when she was freed by her master, treating it like a horrible punishment. Surely I don’t have to say how messed up that is.

Finally, my biggest problem with the Harry Potter series and the main reason I can’t stomach reading or watching them anymore, is the treatment of Harry himself. Harry was abused by the Dursleys. This is not me reading too into the book of reinterpreting anything, this is what is told to us directly. Harry is thin from being underfed in the first book, was forced to live in the cupboard under the stairs for eleven years, is frequently yelled at and berated by the Dursleys, heck Petunia and Vernon practically encourage their son to beat up Harry and frequently show favoritism to Dudley over Harry to an absurd degree. They make it clear to Harry that they don’t want him there. They also lock him in his room in the second book, literally boarding up the window and not letting him leave, passing him soup cans under the door. And all of this is just off the top of my head. Dumbledore left Harry in this environment. Dumbledore is fully aware of how Harry is being treated. Harry’s acceptance letter into Hogwarts literally has the address “the cupboard under the stairs” written on it. Yet they leave him in this physically and emotionally abusive and neglectful environment because the Dursley’s treatment somehow humbled him and made him the hero the wizarding world needed. Let me repeat that loud and clear: Harry is a hero because he endured abuse. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. I don’t care what your justification is, it is never a good thing to leave a child in an abusive situation. You are not good or noble or heroic or anything for staying with people who hurt you. And it’s not just Dumbledore. I understand that Harry living with Sirius wasn’t much of an option with him on the run from Azkaban and then dying in book 5 but what about the Weasleys? Why do they let him return to the Dursleys when they know full well what he’s going through there after Fred, George, and Ron bust him out? Oh yeah, he can’t leave because Lily’s love spell protects Harry when he’s in a blood relative’s house. He doesn’t have any other choice. This is a lazy excuse from the story to justify Harry staying with his abusers and frankly, doesn’t even work since he’s constantly trying to avoid his house, a pretty common response to domestic abuse by the way. So it’s not “protecting” him, even by that stupid logic. Harry was left with and forced to return to the Dursleys year after year solely because he’s the chosen one and needed to be put through hell because abuse apparently molds people into heroes and if Harry was even a little arrogant, he wouldn’t be a hero. And he wouldn’t have been prepared to die to Voldemort to destroy the horcrux in him. The story is framed in a way that glorifies Harry for being abused and I despise it. Dumbledore used Harry as a tool to defeat Voldemort, never taking his feelings into account and he’s just forgiven for all of this in the end. Everyone says Harry shouldn’t have named his kid after Snape? What about Dumbledore? Harry basically named his child after two of his biggest tormentors. It sickens me. It’s like the series is supporting and glorifying abuse, even if that wasn’t the intent of the author (and I doubt it was, since she was abused herself) that is how it feels. So yeah, I can’t really enjoy Harry Potter anymore the way I used to.

(On a side note, I hate “destiny” stories and Harry Potter is a good example of a terrible destiny themed story. Harry didn’t have a choice in anything. He was just forced into this scenario and twisted by the plot to be what it “needed” him to be, having no agency of his own. Great inspiring hero. -_-)

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Rachel Nobel / Rae Lynn

Rachel Nobel, aka Rae Lynn, has 2 fics at Gossamer, but she’s written many more X-Files stories than that. You can also find fics by her at AO3 and various other archives. She’s one of the rare, special authors who’s posted numerous fic during the show’s original run and again in recent years. Big thanks to Rachel for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)? Absolutely. I joined a Facebook group for fanfic writers where someone recognized my name and asked about some of my stories that have disappeared from the Internet, and I almost fell off my chair. On the other hand, I go back and read original-run fanfic all the time - the Wayback Machine is my best friend for all the late great fanfic archives. Like fine wines, they get better with age! What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it? I was fairly young during the peak of the fandom - I was only 12 when I started watching the show and discovered the fandom online. A few years ago, right around the time we learned the revival was coming, I wrote an essay I called "How 'The X-Files' defined my adolescence," in which I wrote: "If you think about it, 'The X-Files' is a lot like adolescence: You start out thinking it's going to be a little hokey, NBD, and then you end up in its thrall, captivated and occasionally hugely let down. A lot of people behave strangely, and no one gets out unscathed. Mulder, in his own weird way, is the perfect mirror for an adolescent: He doesn't fit in; his life careens between being utterly consequential to the fate of the known universe and being completely pointless; he's socially awkward and can't quite nail it down with the girl of his dreams."

So for me, the fandom is inextricably bound up with adolescence, that feeling of vacillating between desperate loneliness and being on the verge of something enormously significant. Take romance: I was a bit of a late bloomer, and when all my friends were exploring their first relationships I was watching Mulder and Scully navigate this beautiful, complicated, soulful relationship without ever even kissing. That was deeply affecting for me as a teen.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)? I started out on mailing lists - there was an EMXC mailing list and one that I think was called X-Angst. [Lilydale note: There was a mailing list called XAngst Anonymous.] This was back at the dawn of the Internet when I only had 10 hours of AOL access a month, and I remember using what AOL called a "FlashSession" to log on, download all the fanfic from the mailing list and log off to read it. I vividly remember the excitement of watching all that new fanfic flood my inbox! Later on I was on atxc. During the long summer between "Gethsemane" and "Redux," it felt like fanfic was at its peak. There was a group of about a dozen women who got together (virtually) to discuss a work in progress by Lydia Bower called "Primal Sympathy." We called ourselves the "Primal Screamers," and we had our own website with fanfic recommendations and other discussions (it cracked me up to locate us as an entry on Fanlore.org). I was still in high school at the time and I was the youngest member; I felt like I had been accepted into a cool underground club. I worshipped these women, who were fanfic writers themselves. They taught me everything I knew about how to be a decent, respectful, enthusiastic consumer and writer of fanfic and fandom. [Lilydale note: I’ve talked enthusiastically about the Primal Screamers here before, including their fanfic primer.] What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general? In the '90s, I would have been embarrassed to tell anyone I read fanfic, let alone that I was writing it. Now, I look back on it and realize how talented and smart and passionate we all were. It's something to be proud of. What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show? The first episode I ever saw was "Shadows," which was on in reruns between the second and third seasons. I don't think "Shadows" is an episode that anyone today would consider thematically significant, but something about seeing those office supplies float spookily through the air - it wasn't like anything I had seen on television, and I wanted in. What got you involved with X-Files fanfic? I've always been a person who, when I am interested in something, seeks to learn more about it. So I guess I got online as a 12-year-old with this new interest and discovered fanfic. It was thrilling to find out that so many talented people were taking characters I loved and bringing them to life for me. When the screen faded to black each week and I wondered, "That's it? What next?", fanfic was always there to fill in the blanks and take Mulder and Scully to the next level. As a teenager, I was self-indulgent enough to think I had something to contribute, too. Most of what I wrote in the '90s would today make me cringe. I remember literally paging through the dictionary in search of erudite words I thought Mulder and Scully would say! But occasionally I'll feel brave enough to read an old story and I feel encouraged to see a spark: a turn of phrase or a fragment of dialogue that I still feel proud of. I write professionally now, but I've never written fiction that isn't X-Files fiction, so it's something that has really allowed me to hone my creative juices in a different way. What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? Sometimes I feel like the Statler and Waldorf of the fandom, like I'm sitting up in the balcony grousing "Back in my day...!" Because the fandom is remarkably robust, and I've gotten involved with it to an extent on Twitter and AO3, and now all these young whippersnappers idolize Mulder and Scully just as much if not more as I ever did! Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files? Not really, no. I've of course consumed a lot of media since The X-Files that I wanted to discuss with others - I'm a huge "Harry Potter" nerd, and I was outraged when Netflix canceled "The OA" - but strangely I've never had the urge to read or write fanfic about anything other than "The X-Files." Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? Every Thursday night! I watch a chosen episode with a group of fans on Twitter and tweet about it - #tbtXFiles. That's great fun. There are episodes I've seen dozens of times over the years and episodes I think I only ever watched once, and it's always enlightening to watch them again with a certain critical eye. When I was a fan during the original run, I really idolized Mulder; I loved episodes where we saw him in all his cracked genius glory. Scully was a trailblazer of a character, of course, but I think the fandom has evolved over the years to give Scully her due. Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom? I was fairly stunned when the revival came around and I realized that people were still writing X-Files fic, and that a lot of it was so good. So yes, I do read fic on Archive of Our Own. But my heart is always with the early days of fanfic. In the revival when Mulder says "I've always wondered how this was going to end" - that felt to me almost like a love letter to fanfic authors who had been trying to answer that question for 25 years. Surprisingly, I've never had the urge to read fic in another fandom. Every time I try, it just feels like I'm cheating on Mulder and Scully. Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors? My favorite author back in the day was Kipler. Her stories were just like real episodes of the show I could vividly imagine in my mind. I adore syntax6, particularly "20" and "The Birthday Stories," because of the way she perfectly and poignantly captures vignettes that span the entire series. Another favorite is Dawn and her "Blood Ties" series - I started out as a "NoRomo," and Dawn was one of the authors who made me believe Mulder and Scully could have a romantic relationship that really worked. And I always had a soft spot for Profiler!Mulder stories, so to this day I mourn the unfinished state of the great Kronos fic "Ascent to Hell." One fic I always come back to that captures profiling Mulder really well is "Domination of Lies," by cslatton. And then there are stories that I consider classics: "Corpse" by Livengoo, "Oklahoma" by Amperage and Livengoo, the "Revelations" and "All Hallow's Eve" series by Windsinger. What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise? I have a soft spot for a story I wrote called "Human Credential." I was attempting, a quarter-century after the first season of the show, to set a story in the very early days of the partnership (which these days is one of my favorite kinds of fanfic to read), and I felt like I nailed it. Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online? I have been doing both of these, as a matter of fact! Or in my case, they are oldies that made it online but vanished when Geocities went belly-up, for example, that I sometimes go back to and reshape. Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work? As the swallows return to Capistrano, I seem to always return to writing fic at periods of transition in my life. The first time I "retired" from fanfic, I wasn't even in college yet! If one can be nostalgic at 21 years old for something one gave up at 17, I was nostalgic for fanfic, and I picked it back up again in grad school. Then I became a teacher and a wife and a mom and years passed, and the revival seduced me back into it again. But the vast majority of fanfic I've written is firmly planted in the first seven seasons of the show - poor Mulder and Scully never seem to get to grow up in my stories. What's the story behind your pen name? I wrote under a lot of pen names over the years! When I first started writing fanfic, no one knew anything about Internet safety and it didn't occur to me that it wasn't wise to use my real name. There was a period when I would have been mortified if anyone discovered my stories under my real name - now, at least I can write it off as a youthful indulgence! When I finally grew into a more mature writer, I started using the name Rae Lynn, which is almost-but-not-quite my real first and middle names. Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions? As far as I know, unless my friends and acquaintances have done some sleuthing, only my husband knows I still write fanfic. And he's never read it, though he's kind enough to give me a glazed-eyes indulgent smile if I ever talk about it. Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now? I am xraelynn on AO3! I have about a dozen stories there - some of them I wrote 15 years ago and some of them are brand spanking new. Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Fanfic is a true labor of love. Fanfic authors don't write fanfic for money or fame; they do it because they love it. Sites like AO3 and Tumblr have made it so much easier to show your appreciation to writers (::gruff reminiscing voice:: back in my day, you had to send them an email, and now you can just click the "kudos" button!). I can only speak for myself, but I really thrive on that feedback - otherwise I'm just Mulder in his cramped hovel of a home office waiting for Scully to nag me to shave my beard. Every so often I think about the fact that there is so much high-quality writing about these characters I've loved for decades just available on the Internet for free and it feels like a true gift.

(Posted by Lilydale on May 4, 2021)

[mountainsluna]

good intentions

request: Seonghwa scenario in which the reader falls into bad habits after breaking up, if u want to you can make it fluff at the end

pairing: seonghwa x reader

genre: angst + fluff ending

word count: 1.9k

✩ [author’s note] this...this hurt :’( i love seonghwa so much my soft hearted baby :’(

✩ masterlist

✩ requests : check bio or masterlist ♡

Seonghwa always had the best intentions when it came to you. He wanted you happy whether that was with or without him. When you came into his life, he knew you were absolutely everything he had ever wanted. But good things could only last so long.

After he started his new job he ended up being a lot busier than he thought he’d be, traveling to different cities and countries nearly every week. It led to him only ever seeing you once a month or so. He couldn’t stand it, he hated feeling like he was neglecting you, no matter how much you reassured him that things would be okay he didn’t listen.

“Y/n I’m sorry, I just can’t put you through this anymore...You don’t deserve it. You deserve someone who can be there for you whenever you need them and I can’t be that.” His eyes were already glossing over as he spoke to you.

“Hwa, I’ve been okay these past nine months... No it’s not ideal but it’s worth it to be with you. I love you so much and I know you love me too, it doesn’t make sense for us to break up like this.” You pleaded to him at your apartment door. He hadn’t even wanted to come inside, worried he’d cave and not say what he went there to say.

“I do love you, so much. That’s why I have to do this. It’d be selfish of me to keep you... I’m so sorry.” His hands that were wrapped around yours, now letting them down slowly.

“Seonghwa...please...” You breathed shakily, tears already streaming down your face. Seonghwa couldn’t bare to look at you as he turned away. Leaving you a sobbing, heartbroken mess at your own doorstep.

You hated to admit you cried for nearly two days straight after your breakup. The shock and denial of it all was taking a toll on you in the worst ways. As the weekend approached your friends decided you needed to get out, dragging you to a local club to loosen you up a bit. You hadn’t been much of drinker, letting yourself get tipsy only on occasion but maybe this was what you needed.

The first sip of alcohol had your body warming up nicely, filling you with the relief you had been dying for as it coursed through your veins. After about three more drinks, the memory of your ex boyfriend was nearly forgotten.

The next morning you were definitely regretting your drink choices from the night before. But by that evening you were ready to go again, craving the break the alcohol brought from your thoughts.

When Monday arrived, your classes had been extra rough on you. On your walk home you decided to stop at the convenient store for food. Your eyes skimming over the wine section. You grabbed a couple of bottles, thinking they’d hold you for the next month or so.

But the bottles only lasted about four days. Not including Wednesday because Yeosang and Wooyoung had invited you to happy hour at their favorite bar and you had agreed a bit too eagerly.

Now it was the weekend and you were ready to go out again.

Seonghwa noticed your frequent outings that first weekend. He was friends with your friends on social media and although you had blocked him, he saw everything through Wooyoung and Yeosang’s profiles.

He hated to admit that after the second night of seeing videos of you downing several hard liquors and shots he was worried. But he knew he was in no position to scold you. He had left you, but he honestly hadn’t expected it to be this hard on you.

That Tuesday he saw Wooyoung’s story, a picture of two wine glasses with you tagged in the second one, letting him know you were drinking again. Then Wednesday when he saw you taking shots of whiskey with the two boys at a local bar. He decided he needed to call you. Whether you listened to him or not, it was getting out of hand. But you didn’t answer.

He even attempted to reach out to your friends but Wooyoung ignored him as well. All he got from Yeosang was a ‘you’re talking to the wrong person. text her, not me.’ When he informed the blonde haired boy that you weren’t responding, Yeosang told him he should ‘take the hint then’ and left it at that.

He was out of town all that week but he wanted so bad to go to your house and beg you to stop, to just stop, He wanted to hold you in his arms again and tell you that you were too precious and important to be doing the things you were doing to yourself but he couldn’t.

Seonghwa was on edge during all of his meetings that Friday, fully expecting to see you getting drunk with your friends again and sure enough, by 10pm on Wooyoung’s story. There you were, dressed in the tightest gray dress he had ever seen you in, downing drinks like a pro as the boys hyped you up. He threw his phone to the other side of the hotel bed. His head falling into his palms as he sighed in frustration.

This whole time he thought he had chosen what was best for you both but maybe he hadn’t. It’s not like had ever stopped loving you. He loved you to death and he missed you more than he could bear. Part of him only watched your friend’s stories so he could catch glimpses of your face. Missing the way you’d smile up at him and how he would pull you into a kiss, loving the way you'd giggle against his lips the longer he’d kiss you.

It wasn’t until Sunday night that he decided enough was enough. He saw a story pop up from a mutual friend of yours, Mingi, who hadn’t come around in awhile. It was a video of a blunt being passed around. The video didn’t show your faces but he recognized your body instantly as you were sitting between Yeosang and Wooyoung in a circle. A shot glass in one hand, as Yeosang handed you the blunt that you took with the other.

He was riding back to his apartment from the airport when he saw it and he knew he had to see you. As soon as he set his bags down, he called another cab to take him straight to your apartment.

It was nearly 1am but he was more determined than he had ever been to be with you. When he knocked on the door there was no answer. He sat on the ground, leaning back against your door as he recalled the events that occurred the last time he was here. He wanted to kick himself for being so stupid. He thought keeping you was selfish but now he knew trying to push you away was only hurting you both.

He constantly refreshed his feed, until a new story popped up, and he could see you in the backseat of Yeosang’s car, high and drunk off your ass and he nearly started sobbing. He could only pray that Yeosang was bringing you here and not to his or Wooyoung’s apartment.

About twenty minutes had passed when he heard voices coming up the stairs to your floor. He stood up quickly already recognizing Wooyoung’s loud voice. A few seconds later he saw you. Your arms slung over the two boy’s shoulders as they helped you stumble to your apartment.

Yeosang scoffed as he made eye contact with Seonghwa, not paying him any more attention than that. He left you to dangle from Wooyoung’s shoulder as he took your key from your purse to unlock your door.

Wooyoung was the only one to acknowledge Seonghwa. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Seonghwa didn’t really know how to answer the boy. “I-I came to make sure she was okay.”

“What you’re finally feeling guilty or what?” He slurred back at the taller boy. Yeosang told Wooyoung he’d wait for him in the car, not wanting to be in Seonghwa’s presence any longer. He helped you onto your couch, your head hanging low not even realizing Seonghwa was even there.

“Wooyoung...I can take care of her for the night...If you don’t mind..”

The smaller boy looked at him hesitantly not wanting to leave you alone with him at all.

“I...really want to be with her...I miss her so much... I can’t believe I let this happen.”

Wooyoung watched as he caressed your drunken face. Your eyes closed, indefinitely passed out. Even in his own drunken state, he could see the regret Seonghwa had in his eyes, silently pleading to him as they made eye contact.

After a few moments of silence while Wooyoung mulled it over in his head, he agreed. But not after a few select threats from him as he made his way out of the door.

Seonghwa helped you out of your heels and into your bedroom, talking to you in the softest voice. Wanting to make up for all the bad feelings he had caused you. While he was helping you into your sleeping clothes he heard you mumble softly.

“S...Seonghwa?” Your head lulling back as the room began to spin whenever you opened your eyes.

“Shhh, yes my love it’s me. I’m here. Let me lay you down, angel.” You grumbled in response but let him guide you to your pillows, he himself making his way beside you under the covers. Resting your head against him as he stroked your hair, leaving soft kisses on your head, mumbling apologies into your hair.

You woke up the next morning in Seonghwa’s embrace, the feeling of his arms around you startling you as you sat up quickly. Your movements waking Seonghwa as well. “Baby what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Y..you...you’re here?” You stuttered out softly. Wondering if you were still dreaming, you reached up to hold his face. His hand coming up to wrap around your arm.

“Yes my love... I’m here.” He pulled you into his chest, and you accepted, your arm coming to wrap around his abdomen. “I’m here now baby everything’s gonna be okay I promise.” He kissed your head and you nearly teared up at his words, hugging him even tighter. “But...how are you feeling?”

The shock of his presence subsiding as you felt the pang of a hangover in your skull. “I...I have a slight headache but I’ll be okay.”

“My love....I’ll get you some medicine and some water, okay?” He moved to get up but you pulled him against you, not wanting him to leave your side just yet.

“Please...please don’t ever leave me again.” You said against his chest, your eyes closed tightly. You wanted to stay in his arms forever.

He hugged you back with all the strength he could muster without hurting you. “I won’t, angel, I promise. You’re the love of my life, I’m sorry I was so stupid.” He held your head to his chest, breathing out a small sigh of relief knowing you wanted him to stay as much as he wanted to. “God, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Hwa.” You picked up your head, kissing him with all the energy you had, making up for every day you two had missed together.

[cosplayingwitch]

A Study in Dirt and Stars

September 30 Day Writing Challenge

Prompt: cloud/star gazing

Part one of the five part as-yet-unnamed series. (If you think of a name, let me know in the comments!) Each part will take place a good amount of time apart from each other.

Summary Star Wars AU with fem!reader and Poe Dameron as best friends/roommates (more?) and grad students- reader in archaeology, Poe in history/library science. In this part, the two get stuck when Poe’s old truck breaks down and they have to wait for a tow truck.

Triggers none, unless you have an issue with waiting for tow trucks or dirt/dust. Oh, they do swear too.

Tags: @make-me-imagine

Other tags: light angst, two idiots in love, mutual pining, would this count as angst?

The sound of shovels clanging together startled you out of your focus. You’d been reading up on bioarchaological research methods- something so boring most would fall asleep even thinking about it. You, however, find the whole thing fascinating, enough to dedicate your life to it. That sound was the announcement by your students that the day was done. Normally you’d have let them know this, but in that focus you’d lost track of time.

You shout “Nice work today everyone! Same time tomorrow!” even though you didn’t even notice their actual work. Hey, as long as they didn’t fuck anything up enough that it can’t be fixed, no one would ever know. 

The university held a field school for archaeology students every year, mostly upper level bachelors students and the occasional early masters students. Given your status as almost graduating from the masters program, you were easily chosen by your favorite professor to GA the class. Which meant, per your professor, you’d be the one in charge for day-to-day goings on. But if you succeeded at this, it’d be a great addition to your work experiences. Very helpful for getting a job in this field.

Which leads you to look around, seeing that your slightly early dismissal was taken advantage of by the students- they left the equipment strewn about the site without regard for how long it would take you to clean up after them. They’d be in for definite trouble in the morning, you’d make sure of it.

You heard the sound of truck tires coming down the dirt lane that was the only access point for your site. You look up to see your friend coming to pick you up. With your car in the shop- all that dust was not good for the engine- he was your only choice if you were to get to and from work.

“Hey there, Indiana. Discover the ark of the covenant yet?” shouted Poe from the driver's seat. 

“Not yet. Did you manage to run out of books in the library yet?” you shout back.

It was always like this between you two. You’d been friends since your freshman year when you took intro to anthropology together. For him, it was a gen-ed class; for you, it was the start of your career path. He was a history major, now working on his masters, like you. He had managed to get a job in the university’s library, though he would probably describe it like he had gotten a job at the Smithsonian. But joking between the two of you was more natural than having normal conversations. One year, he decided to get you a hat for your birthday, one that was suspiciously like that worn by the movie archaeologist. From then on, he called you Indiana instead of your name as an inside joke between the two of you.

You wouldn’t ever tell him- but you kind of liked it.

“Can’t leave quite yet, Mr Librarian. The students left this place a mess, and if Professor Solo decides to pop by the site in the morning with it looking like this I’d lose all hope of ever getting a job.”

“So? I can help! As long as these aren’t some kind of state-of-the-art technology shovels.” he teased. You could tell, he just wanted to get home. And even with the both of you working together, this could take a while.

About two hours later, once everything was packed up for the night, Poe went to start the truck so you could get home to your shared apartment (who better to be roommates with than your best friend?). And it wouldn’t start. He tried again, and again. Nothing. I guess even momentary exposure to this dust could mess with an engine, you thought. Or maybe his twenty year old truck had just finally kicked the bucket. You’d teased him about that truck for a while now, always joking about it someday just giving up and leaving him stranded somewhere. 

Of course, you’d always imagine yourself as coming to his rescue, not being stranded with him. 

“I guess you were right about it up and dying someday.” admitted Poe. “So are we walking or what?”

“It is getting dark, but it will take forever to walk back to the university. We could call a tow truck? Sit around waiting until it gets here?” you suggest. “It gets so beautiful out here. Without as much light pollution, the stars really shine bright.”

Poe was never one to turn down an activity that involved astronomy. That was his ‘secret’ hobby. He told you once that his dream when he was a child was to travel among the stars, but with that not accessible to him, the best he could do was study those who made the advancements in astronomy. 

The tow truck would take at least an hour, the lady from the dispatch center told you. It was the bad luck of location and calling on a busy night. You didn’t mind, it was more time to spend with your best friend.

“It’d probably be more comfortable to lay in the back than in the dirt.” suggested Poe. You knew that wasn’t the only reason he suggested it. He also hated getting dirty, so the idea of laying directly in recently disturbed dirt had to be unthinkable to him. (This was another thing you teased him about often.) However, this time he did have a slight point. If anything, it would probably stretch your back out more than the ground could.

With both of you perched on the end of the truck bed, you watched the stars together. Poe pointed out the various constellations. Even though you knew most of them already, you let him continue because you knew how happy it made him. Not much of a sacrifice to keep your best friend/roommate, you thought. You zoned out while he started rattling off facts about famous astronomers. He’d be the one to know all this- astronomy+history would always mean Poe would know about it.

You thought about how nice this was. The two of you laying back, talking, nowhere to be until the morning. You could get used to this.

Every so often, you’d chime in with a fact about the mythology behind the names of the constellation. Poe assumed you knew these from your anthropology classes during your undergrad. Truth was, you’d learned them for him. That way you had something to add to the conversation when he was discussing astronomy, which was frequently.

It was inevitable that the tow truck did eventually show up, and your night of stargazing would end. It never seemed like two hours had gone by with just you and Poe laying there together. And just like that, your evening together was over.

When you eventually get back to your apartment, it’s past midnight and all you want to do is take a shower to get all the dust, dirt, and sweat off of you from that hell of a day you had yesterday. “Maybe I’ll call Professor Solo in the morning, see if he can take over for the day.” You think. After all, shouldn’t he be teaching his own class?

And maybe, if by some miracle your car was ready to be picked up before noon, you could return the favor by driving your boyfriend best friend to work.

You stop yourself in your tracks. God. Did I just think what I thought I did? 

Yeah. After a day like that, your brain had to be at least a little scrambled, right?

At least you didn’t say it out loud. Poe would never stop teasing you about that.

When the two of you got home after midnight, Poe was beyond exhausted. Luckily, he wasn’t scheduled to work until after noon tomorrow. Or, with it being after midnight, would that be today?

Whatever. I just need sleep, Poe thought.

But he couldn’t sleep that night. (Morning? Every time Poe thought about that it made his head hurt.) He was too wrapped up in thinking about the night you just spent stargazing together. Just laying there, talking, sharing space facts and constellation myths.

He just couldn’t get past the relationship the two of you had. No pressure, no one constantly asking when they’d get together already. Just two grad students, hanging out and having a good time together.

Maybe, Poe thought, he could even be glad his car broke down while picking up his girlfriend best friend from work.

Wait, Poe though. Not my girlfriend, my best friend. I’m not ruining our friendship because I had one thought about her that way. Besides, he continued, who knows if she’d even like me that way.

Poe did fall asleep a little while after that, but not before sending in a request to his boss for a sick day. There was no way he’d get enough sleep to go to work tomorrow.

Author Note- I appreciate any comments/likes/reblogs if you would! Also, this is my first fan fiction published on Tumblr, so please be nice (and leave constructive criticism if you have any). I’ll probably also post this to Archive of Our Own at some point, but for now it’s only on Tumblr.

I have to say, I do enjoy writing for my two idiots here. Next chapter/part will be published on 9/10, so come back for that if you like this. And if you really like this, message me to be tagged in the next part.

[mxndoscyarika]

Red Sunsets (Javier Peña x Chinese!Reader) | Chapter 10: Al Fín Se Hablan

Author’s note: I’m still here! I’m soooo sorry this took so long, I know we’re close to the end but school and applications took up all my energy 😭 Thankfully, I have a writing class this quarter that’s been helping to keep me inspired! Hope you guys like this one, it’s not much but it’s cute 😘

Summary: Family fights, grudges, and determination. Those three things defined your journey as you navigated through the workings of the DEA. Getting in was hard, and catching Escobar was even harder. You joined Javier Peña and Steve Murphy in the hunt for Escobar, forming bonds and life lessons along the way.

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Red Sunsets masterlist

Warning(s): smoking, discussion of marriage 👀, one(1) vaguely sexual innuendo

You sighed and rubbed your face, trying to rid yourself of the haziness that came with staring at pages of small text. You lifted your face from your hands as a steaming mug of coffee was set onto your desk. It was made just how you liked it, and you knew exactly who was next to you. “Thanks, Javi.”

“Of course, hermosa,” he rasped. You smiled as he rubbed your back and kissed the top of your head. “How are things coming along?” “They’re not,” you lamented. “Nothing makes sense and I haven’t been able to make even the dumbest connections.”

“I can take a look at them in a few minutes,” he soothed, nodding at the typewriter on his desk. “Just let me finish something up for Messina.”

“Okay,” you sighed, pouting at him. You pulled him down so you could press your lips to his, smiling at the familiar pressure. “Thanks, baby.”

Javi hummed softly and sat down at his desk. “Anything for you, mi amor.”

You two didn’t notice Steve’s slack-jawed expression as you went back to work, the rustle of papers and clicking of the typewriter filling the office space. Whorls of steam tickled your nose as you took a sip of coffee, the fruity notes lingering on your tongue. It was certainly watered down, but you appreciated the caffeine nonetheless.

“So were either of you going to tell me you got together,” Steve asked, looking between the two of you, “or was I supposed to find out myself after you two sucked face? When did this happen?”

Neither of you looked up from your work as you replied simultaneously, “A while ago.”

The blonde scoffed, set down his cigarette, and crossed his arms. “So you’re telling me that you’ve been together this whole time, and I never knew?”

“Yup,” Javi grunted, pulling the finished report from the typewriter and examining it for errors.

You rolled your eyes at his gruff reply. “We would’ve told you, but we haven’t had the chance. But I guess you know now, so there’s no need for that.”

“Wait, so you two are together?” Steve asked in disbelief.

Javi cringed at the volume. “Thanks for announcing it to the whole world, Murph.” He held out his hand for the folders, which you silently passed them to him.

“Oh, as if the entire embassy didn’t know you two had a thing for each other,” he scoffed, taking a drag from the smoking cigarette. Wagging his finger, he stated, “But this- this is a cause for celebration. Connie’s going to freak out when I tell her the news. How about a double-date tonight? Just the four of us getting some drinks.”

“I don’t mind as long as Javi comes.” Taking another sip of coffee, you silently begged for the caffeine to stamp out your growing headache.

“With you? Always,” Javi said, squinting at the small print. A lock of hair fell from its place, making you want to run your hands through his silky hair. But he was too far from your reach, and you didn’t feel like getting up from your chair. He didn’t notice Steve choking on air across from him.

---

Despite being a weeknight, the bar was fairly full. Music played softly as you searched for an open table or booth. The warm weight of Javi’s hand rested on your back as you rose to your tiptoes for a better view. You spotted Steve and Connie sitting towards the back, tucked away in a booth for four.

“I knew it!” Connie exclaimed when you arrived at the booth, slapping her husband’s arm.

“You knew what?” you teased, scooting across the seat. After work, you and Javi went home to change into more comfortable clothes. While Javi was content with simply changing his shirt, you slipped into a mid-length dress and some stylish slip-on shoes.

“That you two were together,” she said, pointing between you and Javi. “If you were trying to hide your relationship, you weren’t doing a very good job. Though I guess there’s something to be said for Steve not picking up on it earlier.”

“When you work with them every day, everything starts to look the same,” Steve scoffed. “They’ve been acting like this for months by now. Hell, they’re probably married and didn’t tell us.”

“That’s some fantastic detective work,” you said, sharing a look with Javi. He smiled softly and looked down at his drink, swirling the amber liquid. “But we’ve only been together for a couple weeks.”

Although you and he were officially in a relationship, you had quickly realized that not much changed. For some reason, part of you had expected grand gestures and declarations of love, but you also knew that wasn’t Javi.

No, your Javi expressed his love through small favors, gentle touches, and attention to detail. In many ways, it was all you ever wanted; someone who cared about you and would make you feel cherished in a world that was so busy.

Instead of waking up alone in a cold bed, you now woke to Javi pressing warm kisses on your shoulder and nuzzling along your neck. His stubble would scratch your skin as his soft lips worshipped your body, sweet murmurs of  “good morning” and “I love you” rumbling in his throat.

The mornings were always your favorite for that reason.

“So, what made you two take the plunge?” Connie asked, bringing you back to reality. You must’ve looked like a deer caught in headlights, because she shrugged sheepishly. “I’m just curious.”

“Why don’t you tell them?” you asked, nudging Javi’s arm.

He sighed softly and downed the rest of his drink before telling them what happened.

---

The city glowed beneath the overlook, the silhouettes of comunas like mountains during a sunset. You and Javi stood together by the edge. Although it wasn’t particularly cold, Javi gave you his leather jacket, draping it around your shoulders before pulling you into his arms.

It smelled like him, the scent bringing you back to the night of your first undercover mission. The difference was, you and Javi and Steve and Connie had gone to a bar not as DEA agents, but as couples.

A couple. No matter how much you’d wanted to be Javi’s, and for him to be yours, you still couldn’t quite fathom that he’d chosen you. You wondered how your family would react if they found out. Would they be happy that you finally found love, or would they disown you because you broke tradition?

Javi kissed the side of your head and murmured, “Come back to me, baby. What are you thinking about, mi amor?”

“You. Us.” You held his face in your hands and kissed him deeply, your lips molding together. “Te amo, Javi.”

He stilled, your lips brushing against each other. The soft rumble of his voice warmed you from the inside out. “Hm, you know, ‘te amo’ is normally only reserved for the love of your life, as in someone who you’d marry.”

“I know,” you replied, kissing him again. A soft groan escaped him as you wove  your fingers through his hair. “I didn’t stutter, did I?”

“No, you said it perfectly,” he said. In the faint light, you could see his eyes sparkling. They were dark, like the comfort of a bedroom. Like the warmth of coffee in the morning. Like the star-filled sky. You leaned into his hand as he cupped your cheek. His voice was velvet as he murmured, “Eres el amor de mi vida. Nunca imaginé que podría tener un amor como el que tenemos. But then you arrived, got off that plane, and blew us all away. You blew me away.”

You smiled and bit your lip, eyes burning with unshed tears. “You fell in love with me that early on?”

“It wasn’t hard,” he answered, kissing the tip of your nose. When you scoffed lightly, he pouted. “It’s true!”

You rolled your eyes. “Well we can’t both fall in love at the same time. That just makes us look like a couple of fools.”

He laughed softly. “It would, wouldn’t it?” He paused, then said your name softly. When you hummed for him to continue, he asked, “Do you ever think about settling down? Giving up on all this and going home to live your life?”

“Honestly,” you began, “more often than I’d like.”

The warmth of his lips against your temple made you smile as he asked, “Why is that?”

You let out a sigh. “There’s just always been that pressure for me to settle down, get married, and have some kids. And when I was younger, I fought against it. But now that I’m here with you….”

“Let me guess,” Javi started, a half smirk on his face. “You realized that men are pendejos and you’re better off alone?”

He grunted as you smacked his chest lightly. “No,” you objected. “I realized that all I needed was the right person to share my future with.”

“And who might that be?”

“I think you know who it is.”

Translations:

“Eres el amor de mi vida. Nunca imaginé que podría tener un amor como el que tenemos.” You are the love of my life. I never imagined that I could have a love like ours.

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